#(a desk chair a concrete floor etc)

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Choke On The Sun

PAIRING: John Price x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You'd known John ever since the Academy, and even after losing touch, the love you had for one another was never gone. Like a snake, it had stayed hidden in unseen places. But it was always there.

WORDCOUNT: 13.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, intense gore, torture, detailed descriptions of torture i.e. electrocution, loss of a finger, gunshot wounds, knife wounds, discussion of torture, canon-typical violence, death, near-death experiences, guns, weapons, abductions, betrayals, intended for mature audiences, happy ending, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You remember a story you’d been told when you were a rookie—fresh off the cut and eager-eyed with far fewer scars. A more of a glass-half-full type of outlook on life, unknowing of what you’d experience during your years with the SAS: what choices you would have to make.

It went something like this. 

There was a herd of deer that had jumped over the side of a bridge. On either end of that bridge, there were two trucks with their high beams on—not moving but sitting there; the deer got pressured. Spooked. One by one they just…hopped over and died on the rocks below—no noise above the breaking of bone and the clatter of antlers shattering to pieces. 

You have to wonder if it was the fault of the first one who had jumped over for leading the rest to a quick end, or the drivers of the cars just trying to get where they needed to go; ignorant of the way they’d been ogling to see the panic in wide, black eyes. Either way, a whole herd of ten met their fate and left their bodies to feed the larvae and the birds. 

The story had been told over drinks at a pub, at the time you’d taken an interest in it with no more than a slow comment of ‘poor things’ before you’d brought your glass to your lips. You don't know why you’re thinking about it now. 

The timing could have been more opportune.

You send a bullet into the man’s kneecap, hearing the bone disintegrate and the flesh open like a flower. His scream follows, loud and hoarse—sobbing trapped behind a bitten tongue that drips blood down his chin. 

Hand snapping up, you grasp the lower half of his face with a grunt, head shoving itself forward until you lock onto fluttering eyes and get consumed by a whining sob.

“I asked you a question,” you lick your lips, tasting sweat as it slithers down your skin. Your voice is slow and even, grip tight. With a shove, you push back the man’s face, wrist limp with the Basilisk as you wipe at your nose with it, unblinking, when you get to your full height. 

The room wasn’t anything different from a million other black sites you’d been to. A single chair where your mark sits tied up, a desk that had been pushed to the wall, and a single door placed into the cracking foundations of a concrete wall. No windows. No vents. 

Hotter than hell, too, and that place was something you were acutely in tune with. 

“Anthony,” you say, waving your free hand as the scent of blood gets stronger, pools of it already on the hard floor. “I’m gonna call you Tony, alright?” 

Tony yells, wrenching his arms against the zip-ties and screaming until his voice is hoarse. 

“Damn you! I told you I don’t know anything!” He sobs. “My leg—I can’t feel my leg, oh, God it hurts.”

You frown, glancing at the door. 

“Stop lying to me,” you look back, eyes unblinking in the low light. “You still have one left—tell me where your buyer is and I let you keep the ability to walk upright with a cane.” 

“I don’t know his name—!”

“I don’t need a name, Tony,” you growl, irritated. “I need a location.”

“Copenhagen!” He wails, body spasming and hair dancing atop his head. “The warehouse is in Copenhagen, please, that’s all I know!”

You blink. 

“Denmark?” You mutter, brows furrowing. 

“Fuck!” Tony screams long, his skull tilting forward as he releases his guts to the floor through quick gasps. Backing up a step to stay out of the spray, you watch him silently; thinking. The flood of the man’s crimson fluids ripples. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

“Denmark,” grumbling to yourself once more, you shake your head and sigh aggressively. “Of course.” 

Without another glance, you turn and exit the room, pushing your Basilisk into its holster as the gear on your chest clinks lightly like the sound of rain hitting a metal roof. The door closes behind you, voice calling to one of the guards as he looks up quickly. His face is pale. Tony’s wails still echo out; water filling a bucket. 

“Get a medic,” is what you settle with—slipping past on a fleet foot and new intel to pass on to Laswell. She’ll be intrigued, no doubt. 

One step closer, your mind hisses to you. Just a little bit longer.

It’s too late to gain a conscious now.

Emmett Kinsman had been dodging you for years—dodging the Task Force—but with one of his suppliers giving away a location you’d been unable to pin, there was hope for a swift resolution to this mess. 

The radio on your chest sizzles to life.

“Hart, sit-rep. How’s it lookin’ on the black site.” Kate’s American accent leaks into the earpiece attached to you, the cord looping the back of your neck and inserted into the shell; a device of black metal and plastic. 

“I have a location for Kinsman. Copenhagen,” you ease out, moving a finger to the earpiece and pressing. Glancing at the rows and rows of doors in this endless hallway of dark smoke and obsidian mirrors—you’re eager to get your boots to the ground. Your other hand snatches at the rag swinging from your belt, taking it out and rubbing at your face with it until the stain of oil and flecks of blood smear like frosting on a cake. “Where are the boys? I need to be wheels-up to meet them ASAP.”

“Coming to you.”  

“They’re here?” Your face twists as the words settle in, confused. “Why? Thought they were tracking another lead in Romania.” 

Kate’s voice is smooth in your ear, moving like water as you turn a corner, stuffing your rag back into your belt. 

“Are you surprised?” The woman jokes in a monotone; you’d only taken it as such because you knew her dry state of humor. “Really, Hart, you know he can’t stop until you’re back at his side. I was going to tell you sooner, but you were…occupied.” 

Your feet pause for a moment at the beginning of her sentence, instinctual heat moving the length of your neck until you clench your jaw and continue onward at a slightly slower pace—eyes narrowed on the floor ahead of you. 

“It isn’t like that, Kate,” you mutter. A low hum echoes the line and you fight a scowl as a group of soldiers walk past. Itching at your forearm, you shake your head. “John just likes having everyone together on missions like these. If it had been different, I’m sure he would have told me to fly back to them regardless of the intel. We’re tight on time.” 

“I’ve known you both for more years than I can remember,” Laswell sighs. “Don’t try that with me, Captain.” You frown, clicking your tongue. “They’ll be arriving on the tarmac—get ready for a quick exit. We need Kinsman by month’s end.” 

“Copy,” you utter, removing your hand from the earpiece and glaring ahead of you. A still-air silence envelopes the hallway, the only sound of your boots to the concrete and the reverberation that booms after. 

It was so quiet here. 

John Price—Captain Price—and yourself had a… complicated history. You’d joined up together; gotten through SAS selection neck-and-neck until time and its grubby fingers had forced your lives in different directions. Like two vines of reaching ivy, it had only been three years ago that you’d seen the other again, though you’d heard stories as you’re sure he had about you. 

Hart: not the kind that beats but the kind that bleats, you had to explain to most—you weren’t unknown to the darker side of the job and the people that specialized in it. Your file was stretched with so much black ink that when you’d gotten the call on your phone, an unknown number, you’d recognized the gruff voice behind it and the first question you’d asked was how the hell he’d gotten clearance to track you down. 

“No hello, then, Hart?”

“Not one for pleasantries, John. Explain. Quickly.”

“Business as always.” He’s wasted no time, voice going to a low grumble over the line that day. “Laswell took in a favor. You’ve been busy, Love…Room for one more joint-Op?”

It hadn’t panned out to only ‘one more joint-Op’. 

After the mission was over, it had been raining on base. The sky had shed tears from clouds deeper than the gray shades of your gear, splattering packed dirt and concrete. Above your head, the thin overhang off of the armory door had spared you some of it, but when the wind had shifted your clothes absorbed specks of water like spots on a fawn. Your eyes had been looking out—expression open. 

When the man exited the building and came up beside you, you both didn’t speak for a long time. You had been aware of his form, devoid of vest and gear, while yours was still layered with it to the utmost degree. You’d expected to leave that night—a good old-fashioned Irish Goodbye with a C-17 already waiting for you to board. To carry you off to another hellish deed done with ravaging cruelty for the sake of people who would never even know you existed.

The storm had stopped you…or, maybe something else had.

“Good to see you again, Hart,” John had stated, still not looking over at you as his arms had crossed, feet situating themselves. “Been too long.”

You had stayed silent—watching. The drain across the street was flooded. Sticks and leaves stuck at the drain as a whirlpool formed; only dangerous to bugs and the bits of garbage blown in by the wind. 

Only after the wind shifts again did you speak.

“And what has John Price been up to in that time?” Your eyes had slid to stare, piercing in the low illumination of the armory’s outside light. 

A huff of a chuckle, the one you’d remembered in the days of selection—coated in mud from crawling through man-made trenches and a sharp smirk of a snap when the barbed wire had grazed his back. 

There were too many stories here. Too many. So many it became impossible to wonder what could have been and what couldn’t—all that existed were the little moments of fondness.

The two of you were nothing else but souls long past redemption; stuck on that knife’s edge and waiting for the hand to shake and send you through it. 

You are made of memories. 

“That’s a story told over bourbon,” John’s lips had flickered, and you’d blinked slowly, head tilting. “Not anything worth reliving, yeah?” 

“Everything is relivable, Captain. You just need to find a reason as to why.” 

The man had nodded his head your way, conceding with his blank eyes ahead to the rain. A rumble of distant thunder had flown out, making your ears twitch. You couldn’t stop watching him now that you had the chance—the brunette strands; the fatigues, and that accent. The muscle you don’t remember him having in that specific place all those years ago. The wrinkles on his forehead from age and stress are shown in yours as a mirror. 

Tall; formidable. 

There was a tension in the air that you chose not to dwell on—the same that had been brewing for as long as you’d known him. 

“I want you to join up with me,” the sudden comment had made your body tense, eyes snapping away. In your pockets, your fingers twitch with surprise. 

“Join?”

“Thought I’d catch you before you disappeared again, yeah?” A sheen of slight embarrassment is over your skin. John chuckles again. “Extend a formal offer—Laswell was the one who suggested it.”

“Well,” you’d huffed, licking your lips. “Now I’m surely not accepting.” 

“Let me fuckin’ finish, Love,” John’s lips were pulled in a slight smirk—beard shifting. A pause as the wind whips again, shaking the trees before he grunts. “One-Four-One. My Task Force. Been thinking I’d need someone like you, but I knew you’d never agree to it.”

“Oh?” Your brow raises. 

“Not bloody stupid.” He sighs. “Thought I’d ask anyway. Give you a proper goodbye if you weren’t so keen on handing it out.”

“I don’t like goodbyes,” you mutter, hearing John’s feet shift—his boots scraping. 

“I know.” It’s low and even—not a prod or a dig. An observation. 

A hand is moved out to you, hovering. 

There isn’t any need for words when you glance down at it, and then up at him; staring into those blue eyes that so perfectly illustrate the hues of a roaring river, hidden away in the confines of a verdant forest.

A slow smile pulls at your lips, and you see the corner of the man’s eyes soften.

“Knew I’d get one out of you again,” he mutters as you slip your hand into his, a firm and all-encompassing heat of flesh and care. 

“Don’t get used to it, John.” Shaking his hand, you smirk, legs shifting. 

“Never,” he chuffs, squeezing your limb. 

You don’t know why you stayed under that overhang with him that night. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to explain it as you had looked up and seen the C-17 fly off without you in its cargo hold, hands resting on your vest collar and blue eyes watching you, slightly narrowed. 

You never even verbally told him you were sticking around…it had happened like a stray cat under the porch of your childhood home; taken in and cared for. Just the same, John never mentioned it beyond paperwork. 

Shaking your head, you blink back to the black site, turning that last corner and making it to one of the exits. Pushing the metal-reinforced door open, you shift outside and move a hand to cover the glare of the setting sun from your eyes, grunting. 

Laswell’s voice peaks back in as you jog toward the far-off body of a whirling plane, three figures just managing to walk down the ramp. 

“Hart? It’s Laswell.”

“Copy,” you say, knees taking the brunt of the heavy items you carry in pouches and have strapped to your form. “What is it?” 

“The Task Force is a go for Denmark—when you get there, I need everyone searching; we can’t lose him again.”

“Affirm. I’m on it, Kate.” You breathe. “John and I’ll get him. It’s personal for us, you know that.”

“That I do. Make sure to keep your heads on with this, Hart. Out.”

You lick your lips, nodding even if she can’t see you. 

Slowing as you near the plane, friendly smiles spark up from the two Sergeants. Gaz comes over, grasping at your shoulder and speaking above the engine behind him. 

“Ma’am! Good to have you back.” Soap chuckles, tilting his head your way as you grasp Kyle’s forearm—squeezing in greeting with a twinkle in your eye.

“Surprised to see us?” The Scot calls. 

You scoff. “Laswell gave you up.”

“Damn,” Kyle moves back, fixing the cap atop his head and glancing back at his fellow Sergeant. Simon nods from behind the two to which you respond in like. “She bloody betrayed us.” 

“Not as much as Kinsman,” the mood sours; lips thinning as you speak firmly. “Where’s John?” 

“Right here,” the man in question comes down the ramp, blue eyes meet yours. A second of inspection passes, eyes from both parties flickering up and down forms for any mistreatment—any ailments. “Kate already told me. We’re leaving now that we have you.”

Bumping Simon’s fist with yours as you pass him, you ascend the ramp, Soap muttering under his breath about the flight time from behind. 

Standing beside John, you pause like a bird, eyes half narrowed. “You didn’t have to pick me up, you know? I could have gotten another plane.”

The man the same rank as you hums, making sure the men are all inside and taking one last look out to the black site, eyes missing nothing down to the concrete structure to the lights that will soon illuminate the pure nothingness of the fields of this area.

“Wait time would have put us back.” Tiny eyes blink, a hand coming up to rest on his collar as his face shifts to you. “You good?”

“Always,” you mutter without hesitation. “Nothing from Romania, then?”

He grumbles, clenching his jaw and taking in your words. “Negative.”

A silence settles in which you quirk your brow—a small flicker of a smirk makes him turn away and stalk back into the hull, grunting in annoyance. You follow on silent feet. 

“That’s it? It must have been horrible, then. Care to explain?” 

“Get in your seat, Captain.” 

You hold back a low chuckle, walking beside him until you both come to the back of the plane—easing back into the hard plastic, you huff as you clip in your seatbelt. 

It’s all relative silence until the large metal beast is in the air; everyone's bodies shifting as the floor evens out. John and you take long breaths and, feeling the occasional jostle of the plane, you occupy yourself by picking at the dried blood all over your hands as the flight begins—Tony’s blood. 

Blue eyes blink down at you, watching from the side.

“He know anything important?” You stifle a yawn on your lips, one hand coming up to cover the open-jawed expression of tiredness. 

Glancing, you shrug with a slow response of, “Only a location. Even then I don’t know if it’ll pan out like we want it to, John.”

Everyone had been hoping for more, but they also knew that you were the best at interrogations and information retrieval. If you had called it that the man only knew a city and nothing else, John wasn’t one to question you. He knew better. 

A large hand shifts to grasp your right bloody one, picking it up and bringing it to his lap. You let him do it without protest, shoulders loosening at the roughness of his calluses moving across yours until the familiar ritual begins to take part like a black mass. 

Fingers twitching, you hear a hum as John takes out a rag from his pocket, opening it with a flick of his wrist. Moments later, the water bottle on the seat next to him is taken and the droplets that are left are scattered like rain over the fabric until they absorb. 

“All dirty, Love,” he grumbles as your eyes soften, watching him trace the lines of your palm with the wet rag—dabbing away the beads of red. Watching, you listen as he continues. “We’ll figure it out, eh?”

Blue locks with you, holding your gaze until the permanent set of his brows slowly loosens. “We will,” he reaffirms firmly.

“...I should have shot him when I had the chance,” you whisper to John, words low and tone nothing more than a mouse’s murmur; a small pebble hitting the ground. “Don’t lie and say it wasn’t my fault.”

“You’re going to fucking ruin yourself with that, Hart.” He advises, his cleaning of blood coming to a slow halt. “You did what you thought was best,” John leans in closer, not blinking as you try to move your head away with a half-hidden scoff. A damp hand grabs lightly at your chin, shifting it back as you blink in mild shock into John’s face. He doesn’t falter. “It’s all any of us can do, yeah?” 

As if it were nothing, he lets you go and shifts his focus back to cleaning your hand. You watch for a long moment, oblivious to the elbows hitting sides from farther down the hull, quick glances tossed between Sergeants and a Lieutenant who quirks a brow under his mask, huffing a sound in his throat.

“If I had,” you force back the stutter in your voice. “More people would still be alive.”

“Maybe,” John tilts his head, the rag brushing the length of your fingers. “Maybe not. We don’t know that, do we? No use wasting our breath talking about it then. What matters, Hart, is how we fix this.”

You sigh, repressing a shiver as his thumb brushes scars and blemishes, moving like moss over stone. 

“And we don’t leave our bloody problems for the next poor bastard, do we?” You puff air from your nose, shaking your head at the smirked comment. You watch John’s beard move with it—taking in the crinkling of his eyes and the way his knee hits yours. 

“Wonderful pep-talk, Captain.” You lean your head back against the netted sides of the aircraft, letting your eyes flutter shut; oblivious to the way he watches you. “The service is lost on you—therapist is right up your alley.”

“Fuck’s sake,” John scoffs. “I’d sooner go back to the academy than that.” 

“The food was utter shite, wasn’t it?” You agree.

“No need to bring it up,” John comments lowly, amusement thick in his words. 

You don’t know when you fell asleep, but you do know that the pressure around your limb stayed there for a long while—the rag moving over every sliver of skin until only the base was left behind; like a painter creating an ocean scene, shrouded in mist, every bit of red was gone. 

Your dreams are plagued by Emmett Kinsman. His sharp face; his sly eyes and his knack for being undetected.

He’d been a part of your and John’s class in the Royal Military Academy—when all was done, he’d graduated and begun to serve in the 22nd SAS Regiment just as the both of you had. There was never much interaction there, beyond shared drinks and a few good words, a single operation, but the bonds of brotherhood run deep. If given the chance over any deployment or service, John or yourself would have given your lives for him—for the boy you’d bled and persevered with to a point of utter loyalty akin to beasts; unrestrained by any threat of violence, sharp attitude, or past faults.

And in the end, he’d thrown that all away to get into bed with terrorists. 

Location: London, England

Time: 1718

Operation: ‘Purple Cloth’

Your eyes rest behind the glass of the bookstore, gazing out over the street from the second floor with a level of new-found skill and a surety in yourself. Fresh off the cut, you aren’t overly eager for this, but you’re assured in your abilities. 

There can be no failure.

Emmett is down below, sitting at a café and sipping tea as John is stationed at a building farther down the street; waiting. Another man, directly relaying information to Emmett, is at the café as well, sitting in the corner reading a newspaper and facing the individual you’re supposed to follow. Only the four of you for this, and you’re not overly familiar with half of them. John was your only shining grace. 

“Target’s getting the bill,” you shift your head into the collar of your shirt, muttering. “He’ll move soon.”

“He carrying?” John’s voice slithers in, a soft murmur. 

You stare, expression lax at the large body that shifts and stands with a tight shirt on, waving off the barista when she tells him to have a good day. “If I had to guess? Negative. Nothing big—no bulge at his spine. At the very opposite end, I’d say an X13 could be concealed and accessed via a slit in the pant’s pocket and in a holster at his thigh. They’re baggy enough for it, but the draw time’ll be longer. Drug runners are sloppy.”

John grunts, and you address Emmett. “How are we doing, Mate?” 

A smooth, suave, tone moves into your ear. “Not too bad, Sweet Thing. Else, I'd be better if you were sharing a drink with me before I disappear.”

“Only in your imagination, Kinsman,” John interrupts, unimpressed drawl taking your attention. “Keep on it.” 

“I swear I rank the same as you, Price. Where do you get off ordering me around like your dog?” The comment is so easily dismissed as a joke between comrades that there’s no hostility there.

“Since I was given oversight,” the amusement is easily taken in John’s voice. “I’m the one keeping your arse alive, eh?” 

The other addition to your team speaks up, a voice that in the future you’ve already long forgotten. He says to cut the chatter, and you have to agree. 

Emmett and the target are nearing an alley. 

“I’m heading down,” you utter, already turning and heading to the stairs, swiftly moving down them and exiting the building. 

“Copy,” John’s voice fizzles the line. “I’ll head them off.”

“Emmett,” you move to link up with the fourth member of the team as he joins at your side, both of you sharking a glance and a jerk of your heads. “Keep him away from civilians. We can’t deal with casualties in this populated of an area.”

“He won’t have a chance to shoot them,” the comment makes your brows furrow, the tone not a cocky gloat but rather...quiet. A moment of silence wafts out. “What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean, Kinsman?” You frown tightly, your gut swirling with something unidentifiable. The X12 in the back of your baggy sweatshirt is heavy—suddenly ten times more so. 

In the corner of your eye, you see John far across the way shift, leaning before on a trash can, now standing upright. You swear you lock eyes with him, both gifted in all sense when it comes to war. Perhaps it was ingrained into both of your DNA—a knowledge of all things deadly; of threats unseen. Some primal and horrible understanding spanning back to when man had first raised a fist to another. 

“Oi,” your voice pushes. “What does that mean?” Feet pivoting, you move closer to the alley where the light shade of hair disappears. 

The line is silent. 

Silent before a loud gunshot rings.

Birds scatter, and you instinctively duck down, hand snapping to your service weapon as your eyes go wide. Head snapping about, you dash to the alley opening above the screaming; pushing past fleeing people.

“Hart!” 

“He’s in the alley!” 

“Do not engage until I get there, do you hear me?!” You’re already at the entrance, X12 ahead of you, and the safety flicked off with a heavy finger. “Hart!”

The body of your mark is on the ground—a bullet in the back of his skull. 

“Fuck!” You shout, feet slapping the concrete as you zoom past. “Price—target’s down, Emmett shot him in the damn head, on his tail now.”

“Fucking hell.” The man is growling out at you, voice heated.

Your eyes snap this way and that, weapon at the ready as you take a sharp turn. At the very end of the opening, you see him. 

Kinsman slips his service weapon back into the base of his spine, pulling at his shirt to cover the grip as a mass of the crowd is just behind him. He rushes quickly on long legs. 

“Emmett!” Your voice makes him freeze. There’s a long pause before anything is spoken; you have your sights trained—a perfect line-up to the roundness of his skull. 

“I had hoped to be fast enough,” the man tells you, head tilting to the side, “but I should have known you’d move head-long into danger without backup.”

“Hart,” John’s voice nearly startles you from the line. “Sitrep, now!”

“Why would you do that, Emmett?”

“There’s more to this than being pawns, Hart,” Kinsman growls at you. “I play my game right, I always come on top. I needed to earn their trust; our target had a price on his head and no one else could get as close as me. Well,” he pauses, “us.”

“I’m taking you in,” you grit your teeth, hands tight on the gun. You don’t even want to think about what he means by ‘their’ or his ‘game’. It was always word puzzles with this man—one second you had the right piece, and the next the entire picture had changed like sand in the waves of a tide.

“Are you really that torn up about a drug runner?” A scoff makes you hold back a snarl, but your resolve is shaking. This was a man you had trusted—now fast can something that was forged with steel break?

“He was just some filthy nobody, Hart.” Emmett starts walking into the crowd ahead of him, and in your mind you know if you take that shot you run the risk of shooting an innocent civilian. “I’ll be more than a nobody. Or a grunt soldier. People are going to know me.” 

Bodies flee quickly—screams. Mothers, children, husbands.

Kinsman smirks, and as your finger tightens on the trigger, he’s already swallowed by the hoard. 

“I’ll be seeing you.”

John and you sit in the safehouse, for a moment, surrounded by quiet and the smell of hot tea. One week in Denmark, and you have no leads. The other three are away, sleeping in the rooms down the hallway. 

“You’re still thinking about him,” John speaks up, eyes on you. It’s blunt, but that was just how he was. 

You peek your eyes open slowly, your body slouching in the chair and feet outstretched under the table. Your boot lightly touches John’s own. A long sigh exits your nose, grumbling on your tired lips. 

“John,” you level, drawing the name out like the years of your life. A thin warning. 

The man clenches his jaw slightly, bringing up his cup and taking a slow slip. You see the flesh of his throat bob with the liquid as it goes down, the overhead light of the kitchen only a single bulb of warm glow. 

“Been chasing him for years, Hart,” he says when the item is back to the woodgrain. Voice a deep murmur—a scrape of vocal chords. “We both have.”

“He knows too much,” you reply. “I can’t let him get away again. Strategies, operators, everything.” Your eyes shift as your head raises, blinking away the sleep in your glinting orbs. “For years he’s been under our nose, getting away with who knows what—”

“Hart,” your rant is interrupted, and you stop with a snap of your teeth. Blue eyes lock a concerned sheen to them. “Breathe.” 

Your face moves away, arms loosely crossed over your chest tensing. 

John’s body shifts to you, leaning forward until his elbows are resting on his knees. He stares, brows a line on his flesh. You send a swift glance, lips pulling. 

“...Stop that,” your voice murmurs, echoing off the walls of the kitchen. John blinks, not speaking as you move in your seat. The man tilts his head, a slow something making his lips go back slightly. Gradually, your face goes hotter, blinking at him a few times; sucked in like a fox to a trap. “John, quit it.”

“M’not doing anything, Love.” 

“Bullshit,” you try and glare at the looseness of his expression, his smirk that makes your gut tighten. Goosebumps move up your arms. “You’re a horror.”

A low chuckle wafts out, John shrugging casually before he leans back. 

He takes up his cup again and takes down the last of the remnants. “Go to sleep,” hits your ears as your pounding heart takes a breather. It’s a grumble on the air—not as much an order as it is a suggestion. “It’s late.” 

You decide to sip at your own drink as well, eyes drooping at the steam that wafts around your face, nose twitching to the scents. 

“You?” John hums, looking you up and down; seeing the fatigue you carry. You’d been relentless for the week you’d all been here, holding the few strings of the lead you had to your chest—five-fingered grasping with a desperate prayer to all things unholy.  

“I’ll be here.” You tilt your head his way, eyes still half-closed in your seat. Your answer is easy, pushed out in a slow sentence. 

“Then so will I.”

John sighs under his breath. It’s a moment before an exasperated chuckle moves through your earbuds. You smile, eyes slipping closed fully. 

Yet, they startle back open as the cup is taken from your hands, your chair moved back firmly. 

“Up you get, then,” John grunts, and his arms snake around you. Blinking quickly, your jaw is slack as you get taken up into a tight carry; John’s chest firm and your nose brushing the side of his chin. 

Air getting sucked into your lungs, you stifle a hitch in your breath. 

It’s only after he starts walking forward, hiking you farther up into him, and his fingers gliding over your clothes, that you start to relax. His heat seeps like a warm fire.

Head sagging to the side, you grumble into his neck as you miss his eyes looking down at you, eyes soft in a way only you would have been able to see. “Can walk, y’know.”

He hums, head shifting back to the hallway as he carries you to the last door on the right, bumping into the wood with his shoulder and shifting to walk in sideways so you don’t let your legs on the frame. 

“Remember Preu? 05’?” John asks you, moving over to the bed and setting you down slowly, a tiny huff exiting his mouth. Your body sinks into the mattress, head to the pillow as your hand comes up to rub at your eyes. The man moves to grab the blanket at the end of the bed—knowing your trained habit of sleeping atop the comforter on operations; not tangled up in sheets just in case. He slips off your boots. “Carried you two miles.”

“I recall it,” you grunt, a tired flicker coming to your lips. “Bleeding out and all.”

“Well,” John hums, quirking a brow. “Wasn’t about to let my Hart die on me. Blood was the least of my worries.” 

Your pulse flutters at the title, even if it’s just your codename and not the beating muscular organ inside of your breast. 

My Heart.

But it’s never that simple. 

A hand moves up your cheek, a kiss pressed to your forehead. 

The both of you already know you love each other. It wasn’t a secret. You were smart; eyes sharper than a blade—you caught the way he watched you, saw the softness of his expression, and felt the drag of his hand. Just as he caught the way you stayed beside him, an ever-present pair of eyes watching his six. The content nature that only you showed him. 

With feet so eager to leave at any moment, it said much that you chose to exist near him simply because you wanted to. 

You loved each other. 

Boil it down, and you’d both known even back in the Academy that it would be the two of you at the end of all things. The rivers said your name. The valleys rustled with the breeze of your breath. You saw John in the bits of water that sloshed the rocks and in the earth beneath your palms. 

Over the years you’d been apart, the yearning hadn’t been any less sharp—any less potent. In every birdsong, the echoes of the other's voice flew and disappeared on wingbeats. In everything that existed, there was a fraction of what should be. 

What should be. 

“John,” your voice is a whisper, nothing more than a rustle of a cloth. He keeps his lips to your forehead, resting there for a moment against all sense and responsibility. John’s eyes droop down, lashes resting on the swell of his cheeks. “You know I love you.”

He takes a breath. Rain is in the air—the movement of a storm’s wind. A leaving C-17. 

It’s a low mutter into your flesh.

“I know.” 

You grasp at his wrist, pulling lightly. Without a noise, John slips in beside you, kicking off his boots with a single clop of the soles to the wood and the movement of your blanket. He grunts, pushing his nose into your scalp, arms going around your middle. Your head slots under his chin, lips to his Adam’s apple.

The house is silent beyond the murmur of the pipes—the buzz of awaiting electricity. 

So many memories. So many lost dreams. It was akin to two skeletons lying in a grave of their own making, forever holding the bones of the other. Duty and honor are etched into the fractures. 

But he still holds you, he still murmurs into your ear, “Sleep, Love.”

“And you?” You ask, mirroring the conversation in the kitchen.

John’s lips move along your flesh, moving into a soft smile as he glances down at you. His beard scrapes you delicately.

“I’ll be here.”

Then it is here you’ll stay, dreaming of deer and the way nothing could compare to how he held you in his arms.

—

“I have eyes on,” your head snaps up, blankly staring ahead as your fingers hover over the hanging beads of a wind chime. You stand outside of a restaurant in the heart of Copenhagen. 

Laswell had sent in more eyes for the Task Force to use—local soldiers that knew the layout of the city better and where would be a good place to look. For days you’d been moving through the streets; far-off storage units and hidden buildings providing fruitless harvests. Anthony had said a warehouse, but that was panning out as nothing as well.

False information? Possibly, but unlikely. The man had been genuine in his pain and pleading, and it only served to confuse you more.

You had Gaz with you and five others, taking over as the leader of this fireteam while John headed the other with Johnny and Ghost. They were on the opposite side of the city, and you can’t help but compare this to the moment Emmett had become an enemy. 

But divide and conquer was the only option in times like these.

Emmett had become someone, just as he said he would. The man was in charge of supplying arms to terrorist organizations all over the world, and with his knowledge of how the SAS operates as well as any number of special forces, he’d utterly disappeared off the radar.

A wraith of lies and murder.

He had locations all over the globe with his goods, shipped out for money and power. 

And now you have a positive ID.

“Where are you,” your voice is hard and stiff, the body already moving back from the chime and leaving its little bits and bobs swinging. 

“Café down the street,” feet nearly locking together, you continue down the street to where you know Gaz’s last position was. “He’s just…sitting there.” A pause. “You want to know what it’s called in English, Ma’am?”

“The café?” your brows furrow, jogging across the street. 

“‘The Warehouse.’” Growling under your breath, you shake your head and send a curse into the air after a pause.

“I think the man thought he was clever,” Kyle’s voice is smooth and teasing. 

“Should have shot his other leg,” you grunt. “You told Laswell? John?”

“Negative, I’ll get on it—”

“I’ll do it,” you interrupt. “Tell the others to group up at your position and spread out to create a choke point; we can’t let him get away.”

“Rog. Will do.” 

You patch into John’s frequency.

“We have him,” you instantly breathe out. “Down Holbergsgade—café called ‘The Warehouse’.”

It’s swiftly that an answer hits you. “Get him surrounded, we’re coming.” 

Your heart is moving rapidly, fast in your chest as you pass people and business quickly. You didn’t like this—didn’t like the similarities, the…nostalgic dread that builds. A café of all places? Sitting down? Waiting?

It was so ironic it made alarm bells go off.

“John,” you lick your lips, glancing at faces as they pass. “I think he knows we’re here.”

“Explain.”

“A café?” John’s low grunt lets you know he understands. “Just sitting there? He knows—he’s not dumb enough to throw away all of his secrecy just as we so happen to get here and begin looking for him.”

“How sure are you?” The man takes your words into account, and you hear his breath puffing as he runs to your location. 

“Ninety,” you breathe. 

“Then I’m callin’ it off.” Your eyes widen, feet skidding as you come to a stop. 

You have no clue as to how far John will go to keep you safe—even if it means potentially letting one of the SAS’s highest HVTs go. There wasn’t anything that could compare to the thought of you getting in harm's way. Not you. 

John had spent his whole life watching soldiers die in the worst ways possible; they haunted his dreams and he knew they’d follow him to his grave—men he’d led down paths that they never should have been on. 

Not you. 

Losing you would break what little was left of him, the remnants held on by tape and sheer stubbornness. One of the last old faces he could still look at anymore; could draw comfort from in the thin hours. To hold and to love. 

You both knew you wouldn’t stand for it.

“No,” your voice cuts across, monotone. “I’m not allowing that.”

“Bloody hell, Hart, listen to me—do not,” John growls, making your spine tingle, “go after him. If he knows we’re fuckin’ here, we need to pull back and close off the area.”

You’re walking forward, that same pressure of a gun at the back of your spine. It was almost poetic. 

A thought sparks. Years of knowledge and understanding lighting up. 

Emmett was a snake. 

A snake that liked to play games and prove points; greed stuck into his brain for reasons you can’t quite say for certain. Even if you did catch him, he would never tell the locations of his goods or the buyers.

But there was one way to find out. One way this might turn.

“There’s a tracker in my arm,” you speak, growing more sure of your actions with every fast movement of your body. The café is just up the street, and a head of blonde hair is a knife to your vision. “I asked Laswell to insert and monitor it years back when I had to infiltrate a cell before I joined up with you again. Cautionary procedure since I had to forgo my rig and gear.”

A sharp bark. He knew what you were insinuating. “Hart!” You were going to get yourself taken hostage.

“Get Kate to watch it, John.” You move off his frequency before he can comment again, half of a roaring refusal cut off. Speaking to Gaz with a restricted throat, you say, “Kyle?”

“Right here, Ma’am.”

“Good. Don’t engage—I’m moving in.”

A stiff breath is taken in. “W…what was that?”

You don’t reply, only saying, “Whatever happens, I order you and the others to stay back, yeah?”

Your hand pulls the earpiece out and shoves it into your pocket right as you slip into the chair directly across from Emmett Kinsman. 

“Emmett,” you say in greeting, moving up a few fingers to a barista with a low call of your order. The individual nods and moves off before you lock on green eyes; they nearly make you flinch. 

You can only imagine what Gaz is telling John right now. 

Kinsman blinks at you, but he isn’t surprised. You were right.

“Hart,” the man smiles. His voice is still the same, though he looks older. “Pleasure seeing you again. Enjoying the sights of the city?”

“Not particularly,” you stare at him.

He chuckles, tilting his head before he brings his drink to his lips. He swallows and continues. 

“You always were serious. No fun.” You take the insult without any emotion, blinking at him slowly. What was his play?

“Why?”

“You already know why,” he shrugs, dressed in a nice suit. “I’ve made a name for myself—my name will be remembered for ages.” A twinkle in his eye. “SAS soldier turned weapon supplier; isn’t it exciting.”

“It’s a disgrace,” you lean forward, only stopping your voice from rising as a cup is placed down in front of you by the barista. 

Your face plasters a fake smile and you nod, moving it in front of you. Emmett watches with a smirk.

“I call it a change of heart.” He sighs, smirk simmering to a casual smile. “But I am glad to see you, you’ve been creating a big mess of things and I took it upon myself to have a meeting between us as old friends.”

“I’m not your friend,” you growl. “You’ve killed innocent people for no more than a fucking paycheck.”

“Well,” he snorts. “I don’t kill anyone. I’m the middle man—there’s a difference.”

Rage makes your eyes go to slits.

“And innocents, Sweet Thing?” Emmett leans in closer, face so smug and open you want to pull your weapon on him and worry about the consequences later. “What do I call what you do then?”

“A necessary evil,” you huff. “One I carry on my shoulders just like every other soldier does. One that was far better than supplying terrorists.”

Kinsman shrugs, moving back and picking up his drink, swirling it. “If you say so.” He hums. “You have to try the pastries here, you know. They’re very good.”

“I know you’re here because you expected us to find you, what I can’t figure out is why you broke your cover in the open instead of turning yourself in.” You look around at the faces in the outdoor seating, studying them trying to pinpoint if they’re civilians or in league with Kinsman. “Tell me before I decide to shoot you right here and now and end this regardless of hidden goods.”

“You already tried that, Hart,” Emmett laughs. “Pointing a gun at me didn’t work last time.”

“I’m not going to use a gun,” you ease out. “I’m going to take the butter knife on the table and slit your throat.”

“Uncivilized,” Emmet grumbles, frowning at the silver object near your hands. “It isn’t even sharp.”

“Good.” Green eyes narrow, unimpressed. He sighs, fingers moving in an outward gesture of exasperation. 

“If you must know before the main finale, I wanted to bring you here to say that I’m thoroughly impressed with your drive.” You try to stave off the shock in your stomach at the words coming out like a charmer’s flute. Raising a slow brow, you’re caught off guard. Emmett chuckles. “You nearly caught me at several instances throughout our game of cat and mouse. Many times I forget who the assigned roles were even given to; I’m telling you that I had fun.”

You stare, face tight. 

Emmett hums and his eyes go to slits. 

“But every game has to come to an end. I’m growing tired of it.”

The building across the street erupts into a great ball of fire.

—

John hears the explosion in the air, the shockwave that leaves his body halting to look into the sky in time to see black smoke.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “Fuck!” 

He rushes into the panicked crowd, memories stuck in his head and a bone-deep fear he’d been feeling since you cut the connection in your earpiece. Gaz had been relaying to him what was going on action for action—a football game, only the difference was that your life was on the line. 

“Kate,” John shouts. “Get the authorities down here now! We have an explosion on Holbergsgade.”

“Explosion?” The woman’s voice is sharp and disbelieving. “What’s going on—”

“Hart’s in the bloody crossfire, there’s no time!” John’s face is tight, wind whipping past his ears as screams fly on the wind; crying. “The fool is trying to get herself taken fucking hostage for intel!”

Whatever else was said was lost to the wind—Gaz comes over the line, calling to him in a panic as Johnny and Simon join in. 

“The entire building just went up in—”

“Fucking Christ—”

“Price, what is this?”

“All of you get down here!” John sprints past people on the ground, ripping his gun out of the back of his waistband. There’s no arguing. 

When the Captain turns the last corner, carnage greets him. 

The building across from the café was reduced to nothing but rubble and a still-burning flame. Eyes wide, John only looks at it for a few moments, too preoccupied with you.

Where were you? 

His jaw clenches, eyes burning with rage. Such a perfect soldier yet such a flawed sense of teamwork, he had a feeling you’d try something like this—had left Gaz with you for that very reason. Fuck he should have been at your side. He should have known. 

A low grumble moves through his lips, head snapping all around. There are bodies on the ground. Blood pooling under thick building material—fabric in the breeze. 

“Hart!” John yells, running to the café and seeing the remnants of a fast fight. 

The Captain’s heart drops to his feet, face burning with hellfire so much that a sheen comes to his cheek. His hand moves out to touch the handle of a butter knife that had been slammed into the table now half-fallen over, eyes stuck on only one thing on the ground under it.

Through the wails and the call of sirens, the man stares at the two long fingers sitting in the dust.

Never in his life had he felt a fear like this.

—

“I wanted to be kind about this,” Emmett fiddles with the wrappings of his bandaged left hand, only three fingers remaining. “I was going to make it quick.”

You’re locked in a cell-like room, head to the side and blood leaking out of a cut face. Burns travel up your arm, the sticky puss leaking out only serving to make you shiver. You don’t know where you are—don’t know what happened after you severed Kinsman’s fingers with that knife.

But you know the pain isn’t something that you haven’t already gone through before. 

Your voice is hoarse but firm as it leaks out of you, vision spotty. You’d been thrown in here after a ride in the trunk of a car. The ground is concrete. 

“...Don’t make me laugh.”

Emmett growls, eyes wide with hatred. 

“Pathetic!” He barks eyes looking you over with disgust. “Look at what you did to my hand!”

His other hand connects with the bars of the cage, producing a metal ringing sound as you push yourself up with one arm, eyelids flinching in pain. Sitting up, your body falls back to the wall behind it, and you grunt when the air in your lungs is expelled. You lick at your dust-coated lips, your head ringing and your focus failing. Concussion. 

“Least of your worries,” you roll your jaw, a wave of pain making your body seize up and your hands tense with quivering shakes. Your mouth opens with sharp pants. Bile pools in the base of your throat. 

It’s nothing. 

John will come soon. The tracker. If Laswell can get it working again, you’d be out of here and you would have whatever this location turns out to be and the intel that it can offer you—computer databases would be a one-and-done game. You would get names, coordinates, and buyers. It could all be over. 

Your clothes are melted into your skin, and when you move, they peel away with the remnant of your epidermis. The flesh of your left thigh and arm had taken the worst of it—and the cut from flying debris over your left cheek hasn’t stopped bleeding. 

Blood drips from it, and a loud ache makes your head pound all the worse. 

You’ve gone through worse.

“I don’t know why I bother,” Emmett snarls, the crimson bandages thick over his hand. “But it isn’t a problem,” he says, moving his other hand to slick back his hair. “It isn’t a problem,” the man utters again. “You’re going to help me. Yes…I’ve made up my mind. I need you to understand why I do the things I do.” 

Your brows furrow, but above this burning in your head, it’s hard to understand what’s being said to you. Shadows move and Emmett orders one of his men to open the cell door.

You fight the black dots at the sides of your vision, leaking until you’ve accepted the reality of yourself going unconscious. As your body slouches to the side, hands ruthlessly grasp under your arms and drag you to your feet. 

“Everyone has a breaking point.”

—

“What do you mean,” John glares at Laswell, his arms crossed over his chest; hands tightly grasping at his biceps. “You can’t find her?”

“The tracker was old, John,” the woman tries to explain, furiously typing at her computer that rests on the table in front of her—her spine bent over as the rest of the One-Four-One stay in a limbo of anxious looks. “To get it working again, it would need something to restart it. I don’t know if you can see,” Kate’s eyes are hard as they lock with his, “but I can’t do anything if she’s not here first.”

“Well of course she’d not bloody here Laswell, fucking Kinsman has her!” He shouts, hands moving out in a display of aggression. 

“Captain,” Kate rises to the challenge, hand moving flat to the table and glaring with the heat of a thousand missiles. “Do not take that tone with me.” 

John snarls and jerks his head away, feet on the ground trading weight. 

The man was borderline feral—all snapping teeth and sharp glances. Gaz had seen him like this only a handful of times, MacTavish even fewer. Ghost, of course, knew, but even his brown eyes wouldn’t leave his Captain, absorbed in the way he was unable to stay still for even a moment. He was in full gear, too. Had put it on directly after returning to a local base. 

John was ready to go to war, down to the rifle that swung from a strap at his side, the ammunition stuffed to his chest—sidearm at his thigh. A rabid dog with intelligence and the knowledge of where teeth needed to be applied to a neck for a clean kill. Simon doubted he wanted it to be clean.

John was ready to rip people to pieces. 

“Give me something,” the Captain says in a low growl, beard shifting. “Give me what I need.”

Kate splays her hands. “All we have is surveillance of a car leaving the area—the smoke covers all chances of the drone we had flying picking up a clear picture. John,” Laswell eases, standing up, “there’s only so much we can do. We need to wait—”

“We can’t bloody wait,” Gaz speaks up, “What’ll he do to her in the meantime?”

“Garrick’s right, we need to be on the ground with this.” Johnny nods, mohawk bobbing. “That’s one of our own—we’re not sitting around with our thumbs up our arses, Laswell. Not with Hart.”

Simon blinks, humming. Laswell’s eyes shift to him, near pleading for one to be on her side with this and see sense. Ghost shrugs. “I’m with them. Hart’s one of our own; we’ll do what needs to be done.”

John’s chest swells with pride while his eyes get stuck on your file on the table, your printed picture, and your black ink—he’d never loved an image more, but nothing could beat the real thing. He needed you back. He’d gone through hell with you for his entire life; you’d suffered with him and only locked your hands together and held on tighter. 

That was love—that was duty.

John Price wasn’t against skewing his morals for the sake of your safety. You would always be his most important mission. The man didn’t want to think about what might happen if he found you too late.

“Give me the video of the vehicle,” he grunts, jaw tight and his eyes beady. His body slightly leans forward to Kate, love going lower. “Or I’m going out there myself.” 

Laswell frowns tightly at him. 

“I just sent it into forensics—they’re trying to get a match. Go out if you want, but I won’t be able to stop the firestorm that comes out of it.”

She closes her laptop and moves past him, sending one last comment into the stone man as he towers ever taller.

“She’s strong, John. If you’re smart, you’ll keep yourself out of the crossfire until we have a definitive hit.” 

Her voice echoes from behind him as his hands slowly move to clench into knuckle-whitening fists.

“If Kinsman gets a tip we’re still onto him—you’ll never see Hart again.”

—

Day Three:

Your days start blending. One moment you hear the snapping of your bones, and then the next you’re wasting away in this cell—ears ringing and eyes buggy. So much blood. Blood on the walls—blood on the chair they strap you into in the other room; even stuck in the groves of your flesh. 

You don’t think you can stop closing your eyes and seeing a deer at the bottom of a bridge drop-off. It’s stuck in your head like a virus; those car lights in the back of your mind just waiting for you. 

There’s no sense as to what they do to you—all its purpose is, is to prove a point to Emmett. A sort of broken retribution for your interference and his fingers. 

Vain man, really. You’d told him as much when he was watching you get your own finger torn off my pliers; spit it at him as the blood from your bitten tongue stayed his suit. You remember the feeling of the knuckle popping first, and then the burning heat of the flesh being twisted to the side. Two firm yanks and the flesh had sprung like elastic, fissuring, the tendon snapping. 

You think you blacked out after that, but you can’t be sure. All you remember doing is screaming. 

You woke up with your left pinkie finger completely gone, resting outside in the hallway to mock you from past the bars. Your eyes could see the bone sticking out of it, and all that was left on you was a badly cauterized stump. 

When Emmett had come to gloat, you started slurring out laughter. 

“I’m going to rip you apart.” Your broken body had jerked back and forth like a marionette doll, only succeeding in spreading more red over the floors as green eyes widened and went dumbfounded. 

It sounded like a choking fish.

All he’d done was left, quickly passing the pinkie left limp on the ground.

Day five:

You can’t move your body as they dump you back into the chair—the drain below you flooded over with crimson and bits of hair; vomit and torn-off fingernails. You’re unable to open your eyelids fully. 

A hand grasps at your face, yanking it up into the overhead light until a bucket of water is dumped directly over your head. Your body jerks, coughing and darting forward until you’re shoved to the back of the chair and the rope is tied around the front of your shoulders, the second at your wrists.

Trying to suck down air, you shiver with the strength of an earthquake. Whoever said that they would never be afraid while being tortured was a liar; whoever thinks that they would be able to push through it—a fraud. Emmett was right, everyone had a breaking point.

But you admitted yours would only come after your death.

Your legs are seized, bent up as you hiss as well as you’re able, teeth snapping. 

They’re dumped back down into a bucket of ice-cold water as droplets drip from your nose—wet skin for the moment only holding streaks of gore. Even with your scattered mind, you know what this means. 

Heart tight and eyes widening, you try to push back in the chair; try to fight the rope and the way your body won’t respond. 

A battery is rolled up beside you on a metal cart. Jumper cables. 

There’s a low chuckle at the way your face goes fearful. 

—

John shoves open the door to Laswell’s temporary office, already talking before it hits the far wall. 

“Do we have her?” His hands move beside him, brushing the grip of his sidearm. He hadn’t been out of his full gear for more than five minutes in days. Waiting day and night for any word; sleeping in it, eating in it. The forensics team had been stumped, unable to get more than a model out of the picture. 

But this might finally give him something to act on. 

Kate is moving, grabbing documents and her laptop, speeding past him and out of the door. 

“Kate!” John shouts, following after. “Hey,” he calls, grabbing at her arm to stop her. 

The woman only halts to say, quickly, “We have a hit. Follow me.”

John’s heart is rampaging, pulse wild under his skin as his gloved hands twitch. Finally. He can only smoke so many cigars—only think of so many scenarios until he feels he needs to vomit. You’d been gone for too long. Every moment had been like trying to walk with a cloth over his head; lost. 

He’d grown stiff. Stiffer than normal. Everyone had seen it.

“Where is it, then?” John asks as Laswell pushes open the door to the meeting room, the other three already inside.

“A property outside of Copenhagen—bought through a proxy on a fund that was linked to blood money in South America; it all went directly back to Kinsman. It was found only ten minutes ago.” A pause. Electricity in the air. “But that’s not how we found it.”

“How,” Simon asks, moving closer. 

John gives the woman his full undivided attention, hands moving to rest at his collar in a soothing gesture. 

“Her tracker came back on.” Eyes go wide, all sharing rapid glances as Kate opens her laptop and opens a man, turning the device for them to see. “Same location.”

Johnny blinks, his eyes narrowing. “And what does that mean?”

“That can’t have just done that by itself,” Gaz mutters, brown eyes sliding over to John who’s stiller than a wolf. The Sergeant pauses. 

His eyes are dead set on that screen. His thighs were so tense it was nearly like the Captain was about to sprint out of the room. Kyle’s face goes blank at that, never quite seeing the extent that your disappearance had on the man. His superior had bags under his eyes; far more pale than usual. His apparel was ruffled, too. Even in the more serious of situations, the Sergeant had never seen John so…out of it. He was always the one with the even head, even if he had a short fuse with certain things. Nothing was ever done without thought, he should say. 

But this is something else. 

“Torture,” Simon gives his two cents and John’s cheek twitches at the word. “Electrocution. They jump-started it and didn’t even know.” 

“Bloody Jesus,” John breathes. Everyone had already had a hunch, but no one had wanted to name it. 

It’s a low rumble that makes the rest of them freeze, though. It was so dead in tone that it even made Kyle’s spine lock up; Johnny’s eyes went a smidgen upward. Simon, although his face was covered, felt his lips twitch.

John looks at nothing but that dot on the computer screen.

“Am I green, Laswell?”

Kate looks at John. It’s like setting a hellhound loose. 

“You’re green, Captain.”

—

You’re tossed into the cell and your body rolls along the floor, bouncing and flinching until your back slams into the wall. Air is forced from your lungs, coming out in a loud grunt before you land on your stomach in a heap. Staying there, your nerves are fried. 

Every moment you think the twitching of your fingers will stop—the dance of your muscles responding to the aftereffects of electrocution, it only starts back up again. Your eyes blink rapidly; your clothes have the scent of smoke to them. 

Gasping for breath, you feel like you’re drowning and being set on fire all at once. 

Yet the question in your head was a simple one, one you’d been asking for days.

Where was John?

Emmett enters the cell, clicking his tongue as the metal hinges squeak. 

“I’m not surprised it’s taking this long,” he explains. “But I am surprised you’re still alive, admittingly.” 

A boot comes out and places itself atop your shoulder, pressing down slowly until its full weight is on top of you. Your mouth opens in a shuddering sound of a dying animal, blood dripping from your ears and nose. 

“I know you’ve taken torture before—even taken a part of it,” Kinsman sighs. “But, shit Hart, you really do scare me when I know you’re strong enough to get through th—”

Your body jolts up, grappling Emmet’s leg and twisting it to the side. Regardless of pain—of agony—there’s such primal rage inside of you that what little adrenaline you can bring forth is all that more addictive. 

The man collapses in a heap, gasping, but you’re already on top of him, wrestling your hand to his neck, missing finger and all. Blood moves, staining his precious suit and dripping from your mouth into his hairline. You bare down your weight on him, teeth clenched and eyes wild—one orb holding nothing but red from burst veins and the other full of a vicious gleam of ferality. 

Hands snap up to your wrists, mouth opening in flapping panic. 

But Emmett has grown weak; he’s out of practice. All of those years out of the SAS, giving up on the training of the body to match the mind. The idiot wasn’t even carrying a gun when he walked into the cell of a charging stag, its antlers dripping gore, sharper than any knife. 

When the flaps of his eyes fall there’s no gloating speech—there’s no snort of a tall and proper victor. All you do is take the front of his face, grasp it, and start sending his skull back into the concrete floors. 

Crack.

…Crack.

….Crack.

Only when the sound of his head breaking open meets your ringing ears, do you force your wheezing lungs to take a large breath. 

Emmet Kinsman died as he lived. 

A fucking piece of shit.

“Fuck you,” you spit on his corpse, saliva bloody; his jaw is loose as you release the man’s face, eyes bulging. Falling to the side, you groan in pain, your body curling into itself until you resemble a sleeping fawn. You’re shaking more and more with every second, coughing with the force of an earthquake until your shredded vocal chores force you to stop. 

But the brain is a funny thing. 

In times of danger, survival is the only thing that takes priority. It was why, in a long shove of your hand to the floor, with your bones creaking and your vomit meeting the ground, you’re able to stand. It isn’t enough to help you heal the snapped bone of your right leg, however, and in a steadily failing stupor, you drag it behind you. In this state, nothing else matters to you besides a simple command: get out.

Your shoulder slaps the metal of the cell as you stumble out of it, careening into the far wall and letting out a loud shout. 

Eyes fluttering, you connect your temple to the cool concrete, trying to breathe. 

It hurts too much, your mind says. God, I can’t feel my limbs. 

A long trail of blood follows you down the hallway as you slide along the wall, using it as a brace. 

You want to see John, you whisper inside of your head. You want to be held by him—be taken into his chest; cared for away from all of this fighting. 

A trip back to Herefordshire with him, to go deep into the country together; rest in the green grass where no one can find you for just a few good hours. It didn’t have to be forever, you would say. Just a few hours. A few hours of sky and earth wrapped in a time loop of just your own. 

You want to kiss him there. In the open, out in the wild. You want to stay by his side, your mind thinks as you stumble over the three dead bodies in the left corridor, bullet wounds in their heads. You want to be by his side forever, no more gaps in years, not more longing. It’s so close you can nearly reach out and grasp it—

Your name is yelled on a heavy breath, and hands capture your shoulders as you fall straight into them with no more strength.

Blue eyes lock with yours as you’re hurriedly settled to the ground, body limp and eyes trying to stay open. 

Blue eyes on a grassy hill.

“Hart, fucking hell.” Hands move your body, pressing and sliding—finding every opening and spreading blood like water. “Fucking hell! Hey!”

You’re yelled at, and the ripping of pouches and the familiar sound of bandages being wrapped come to the back of your brain. A hand shakes your head, locked under your chin as you take slow, broken, breaths. 

“Please, fuck sake, please,” it’s a desperate growl, so familiar and yet a world away. Your body is moved and manipulated as every leaking wound is packed with so much gauze it hangs out of you like you’re a mummy. The burns along your flesh are crust and infected, open skin peeling back. 

But the pain is lesser now. Easier to manage. 

There’s such a ruckus that it’s hard to focus on John—the man on the hill. In the grass and the wind. Brown hair moves in the breeze as white clouds roll past. On the air, there’s the scent of rain, and in the far distance, you can see a group of ten deer grazing, ears twitching.

Maybe you’ll ask them if they blame their leader, or the two trucks on the end of a bridge.

“Keep your eyes on me!” You blink into John’s tiny blues, that mist rolling back. You stare for a moment as he frantically screams into his radio; night vision rig on his head and all-black gear covering him from you. His face is pale, his eyes glossy. “Look at me, hey,” he blinks as he notices you watching, surging forward. “Hey, keep 'em open, yeah? You keep them fucking open, Love.” 

Your chest is heavy. 

“John,” you push out a flicker coming to your lips as your vision slightly unblurs itself to the sight of a flood of blood on the man’s body—an unimaginable amount.

“I’m ‘ere,” his accent grows deeper with emotion, one hand holding your cheek and the other at your shoulder, keeping you still to stop any additional damage. “I’ve got you, you understand me? I’m not letting you go, so don’t you think that I will.” 

It’s a double-edged sword.

A smile peels back your chapped lips, red running from the corner of your mouth. You glance at his stained gear again. The abyss swirls at the corners of your eyes.

“Is that your blood, or mine, John Price?” 

You hear him scream for a medic, and then it all goes numb.

—

You dream of deer on a hill, but every time you search for John, he isn’t there. You go past rivers—

“She’s dropping!”

“Get me the defibrillator!”

—past copses. Your voice goes high and low, but all the while you look, there’s nothing but a nagging feeling in the back of your head that you shouldn’t be here.

“Again!”

It’s a strange nagging, truly. Like falling asleep in the middle of the day and waking up in the night without any remembrance of what had happened prior. A displacement of the mind. 

“We’ve got a pulse, Doctor, do we stop and—”

“No, I need to finish off the internal bleeding or else she won’t make it another day. Get me the cauterizer, now.”

You blink and grip your chest, a sudden pain sharp in your heart as the grass moves about your ankles. Coughing, you bend over, your eyes fluttering rapidly. In the deepest part of your eardrum, you hear a murmur of a voice you can’t place.

“The man came back, again. He’s been out there for days. He just…sits there, waiting until someone tells him something. He can’t come in, and I’m sorry about that. I’m sure hearing his voice would help more than mine, but you’re in too much of an unstable condition for that. If you get another infection, you won’t…hm, I shouldn’t talk about that. Everyone in school said only to talk positively to patients when they’re like this. I…I’m sure he’ll be able to come in soon. I think everyone calls him John if that rings a bell?”

“John?” Your eyes flutter open, sharp light above you making you snap them back closed. No one answers. 

It’s a long moment before you find the strength to breathe in the oxygen from the mask over your face, taking a long and deep inhale before a slight cough makes your abdomen tight. You flinch at the pull of stitches, all coming from so many places, that it’s unwise to move too much. 

Gradually, you open back up your eyes, pushing past the sting. Inside of your throat, the skin is so dried out you can feel it cracking at every articulation of your words. 

“Where's…John?” When you shift your head to the side, no one’s there. No one’s even in the room, either.

Blinking through the haze, your lips twitch on your face, skin tight. With a slap of your weak hand, you grasp the oxygen mask and pull it down to your neck, grunting in mild annoyance at the medicated numbness of your form. 

Your leg is in a cast—and your left side is tightly bound by wrappings to hide away the burns where skin grafts most likely live. With a glance, you see the missing pinky and the bandages that cover the strange remnants. 

The facial wound will scar, you know, but right now it’s patched over and healing. That’s all you can ask for. 

Sighing long, you blink slowly at the ceiling, licking your lips. You need water.

Outside, the murmurs are missed to you as your unmarred hand reaches for the nightstand table, where a half-drunk bottle of water sits next to a tray of food. Even if your stomach rumbles, water takes precedence. Your throat was like the Sahara desert.

“Forget something, John?”

“Bloody fork. The bastard gave me the slip. Dropped mine, needed to go back and grab another.”

“Oh, that’s alright—you could have asked one of us to get one for you. We’d hate for you to miss any time for visiting hours.”

“It’s fine; gets me moving, eh?”

“Just grab us if you need anything else!”

A low grunt is accented by the opening of the door; immediately you tense and pause, neck fighting itself to shift forward once more.

Wide blues lock with your own, and it’s like every pain fades away. 

John’s jaw is slack hidden under the layers of his beard bristles, brows going atop his head in an instant. The sound of a dropping metal utensil echoes through the room. 

You both stare at one another for a long time, and the murmur of nurses accumulates to some peaking through the crack; their expressions also going to shock. A few scurry off, probably to get a doctor. 

“What?” Your hoarse voice asks, unnerved by this. 

At the sound of your voice, John flinches forward on his boots. The nurses get shut out with beaming faces as the barrier closes with a small click of metal.

Walking to the side of your bed, John clears his throat, eyes looking you up and down in two glances. A million things are hidden in them. After an opening and closing of his mouth, which you watch closely while squinting, he speaks.

“How are we feeling, then?” You breathe slowly and in tiny puffs. John looks at the oxygen mask as if telling you to put it back on, but you refuse for a moment. 

“Like shit,” you utter, voice cracking.

With a huff, John pushes away your reaching hand and gets the water himself, unscrewing it. Bringing it to your lips, you take it down as he speaks.

“Easy, Love.” 

When you’d had your fill and the ache settled, you brought a hand to your head and rubbed at your injured cheek before John sighed and grabbed at it, intertwining his fingers with yours and lowering the limb back to your chest.

You stare at him, and he stares at you. 

“I don’t know what to ask,” you confess. 

“You don’t have to ask anything,” John mutters, and his face is tight with worry. “You’ve been in a coma for three weeks, all you need to do is ease back into it.”

Your eyes snap back.

“Tell me if it hurts,” He speaks slowly, moving on one word at a time so the realization doesn’t dwell in your brain. “I can get someone to come in, yeah?”

Your hand in his burns, and John pulls at the chair by the nightstand until he’s able to sit down in it fully with a tiny grunt.

“No,” you say, “no, it’s…I’m fine.”

Better now that you’re here, but your body is tense. Three weeks?

“Just need to take it easy,” the man states, thumb running up and down your knuckles. “You’ll be better soon.”

A dry look is sent his way, and he hides a soft quirk on his lips. “You’ll be better, Love.”

You hum, head moving back more heavily into the pillow. 

“When do I get to go back?”

“When you’re healed,” he grunts. “Not a fuckin’ moment sooner.”

“We get anything on the other locations of the—”

“Hart,” you’re interrupted. Blue eyes stare at you heavily, digging past every shield you’d put up and every fear. What happened was still heavy in your mind; it pained you to imagine it, even the way John had found you—even if it was all glimpses. “Slow down. That’s not an order coming from a soldier, it’s a caution from an old friend.” John says, squeezing your flesh. His other hand comes to your shoulder, sitting there heavily. 

“Breathe,” he orders, face gruff. “We always figure it out.” 

You close your eyes and sigh, frowning. 

A low chuckle moves along the air a second later. 

“Never sit down, do you?” A flicker dances over your lips like a butterfly. “Impossible, you are.”

“You’re one to talk,” you huff, eyes shifting back to him. 

He’s smiling at you, and you can’t help but mirror it right back at the sight. Your facial injury pulls and tightens, but you would welcome an ache like that for as long as it stayed. A scar born of the stretch of lips is one well-earned. Only John could ever make it a reality.

The man stares at your lips, his wide build eager to stay over you in this state. He can’t stop himself from caressing your skin; to feel you alive and breathing. Talking.

“Scared me,” John admits under his breath. 

You blink, your smile fading slowly until it was like it was never there. Your body builds with guilt; also something only he could bring. “I’m sorry, John.” 

A small thinning of his lips is what you get, accented by a hum. 

“Hart,” he grunts. “I…”

John’s eyes closed for a moment before opening back up—spearing you with their gaze. Your tired eyes crinkle in confusion.

“What is it?” Over the tingle of your flesh from where he touches you, it isn’t hard to forget the world is around you when he’s here like this. You’re nearly trapped by his eyes, yet you welcome it eagerly. His voice moves out, accent and natural gravel, all. 

“I love you.” 

Your nose lets a chuff exit. Was that all?

“I love you, too, John—”

“No, Hart,” he pushes slightly harder, moving closer and licking his lips as he glances away. “No,” John looks you dead in the eye as you lay here battered and broken within an inch of your life—a risk that you took willingly as if it had meant nothing. The both of you weren’t new to this; you both knew that on any day you or he would do it over and over again until it resulted in death. That was the way of this game; this trial. 

You had both always been content with that, but when had it changed? 

Why was the thought of losing you more fear-invoking than anything else he’d ever encountered?

You watch him as his lips utter the words, lips close to yours and your eyes locked. 

“I love you.” 

Your voice is caught in your throat, stuck in the throws of a quick gasp. Not blinking, the man waits for you—waits for an answer to the earth-shattering confession. But it all came far easier than you would ever admit to anybody besides him. It was already known, after all. 

All that remained was the pesky words.

“I love you, too.” You beam, words low with intimacy. “I think I always have.”

John chuckles, a large smile pushing at his reddening cheeks. “Good,” he nods, clearing his throat. “Good,” he says again. “Well, I—”

You softly connect your lips with his, and you feel him pause, breathing you down for a moment as hearts beat at the same tempo. He sighs, one hand coming up to capture your cheek, holding it there for you as you sag into it and live in this everlasting moment. 

It’s there you had a revelation.

It was never Hart to him. John had never been calling you that. 

He’d always just been saying Heart.

You breathe out a laugh, when you separate, beaming in a happiness you thought was long gone from you—stolen in the dark nights and sold through even darker deeds. Neither of you was worthy of this, of the love that breeds in broken things. Yet, here it is regardless. Here, among blood and the blue eyes of a man you’d known since knowing anything became important. You had always known it was John. And finally, finally, finally.

“I would marry you in an instant, John Price,” you breathe when you separate, not weak enough to stop the words from exiting from the deepest part of your soul.

His crinkled eyes watch, reverently gazing at every blemish and mark; everything he could learn new again. John’s eyes are as soft as you ever imagined them to be, and he gives them over freely to you.

He kisses you again and leaves the taste of his heavy, happy, chuckle tingling across your lips.

“Seems I’d better get on that, then.”

A/N: This fic is strangely nostalgic for me even if I just wrote it - I remember the first ever fic I posted on here was a rescue fic, as well as a John Price fic; it's amazing to see how far I've come in regards to overall content/story building and how my understanding of the character has evolved. This might not be the best work I've posted on my blog, but I'm glad to say I'm proud of myself and how far I've come. It's so wonderful that I can have this feeling for such a big moment and still feel so drawn back to the past at the same time. Totally not tearing up at the thought rn.

Thank you all very much for your support.

TAGS:

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#cod #cod x reader #cod x you #call of duty #x female reader #cod mw22 #call of duty x you #mw2 #mw2 2022 #cod john price #john price #captain john price #captain price #cod price #john price call of duty #john price cod #john price x reader #john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod mw #cod x female reader #john price x female reader #x fem!reader #captain price x female reader #female reader #cod mw x reader #mw x reader

[lovelinoss]

nonidol!seungmin x afab!reader

college!au

Warnings : smut. MDNI!! adult content below, brat tamer seungmin?, use of pet names, enemies to lovers trope?, unprotected sex (no not do this), tutor seungmin, etc.

a/n : this has been stored in my drafts for so long unfinished.. but i decided to finish it and its so bad?! im gon sob. Butttt… my inbox if always open for req so feel free to ask !

wc: 5k (5,069)

“Can’t you see where you’re going?!” the guy in front of you said. More like above you, since you were on the floor with your books everywhere and your spilled coffee to the side. It was so embarrassing, trying to get into the library’s “office” room for people who study or work to get some work done when you ran into this guy on his way out.

I mean what a jerk, right? It was your fault, but a person who was thinking straight and is a decent human being would have said “it’s okay” and help you up!

The concrete floor was cold, the winter days adding more of this chilliness. Your bottom hurt from the fall. You just looked up at him to see his face in an annoyed scrunch. He noticed you staring and he met your gaze. He sighed.

“C’mon, get up,” he said, reaching his hand out for you to grab. You looked between him and his hand. You reluctantly reached out for it, grasping his hands. He tugged backwards for you to get up.

“Thanks.. i guess,” you said, dusting off your coat and crouching down to pick up your books.

“Is that how you thank someone?” He said, catching you off guard. You stood up after picking up your books.

"What?" You responded, staring at him. He raised his eyebrow, making it seem like he was intimidating you.

"Want me to say it again?" he said, crossing his arms with his backpack slung over his shoulder. "is. that. how. you. thank. someone?"

"Fucking no!" you yelled out of frustration. "What as in is that something to say to someone? Are you this rude on a daily basis?"

“Whatever,” he shrugged, bumping into your shoulder as he left his own way. That was so obvious that it was on purpose! You could feel the way he smirked once he walked away.

What the fuck. Who even was he?

You’re mind was on this random guy the whole time you were trying to study. Trying to right down your notes in your notebook would just lead you back to slamming your fist on the table out if frustration. You sighed, leaning back against the chair you were sitting in. It’s been 2 hours and you barely got your work done. You were tired. You were frustrated. You need a break.

You left your stuff as is on the single desk. No one in the library cared enough to steal stuff. It was never said so, but everyone knew that no one steals stuff in the library.

You walked into the nearby convenience store once you got out, wanting to get some snacks and some coffee to keep you awake all night.

You reached the area where they kept the drink when you spotted your favorite brand of coffee sitting on the shelves. Lucky for you, it was the last one. You cheered mentally, walking over to grab it.

However, when you were reaching your hand out to grab it, another hand reached it first, grabbing it off the shelf. You turned to your left to see who stole your coffee. And nonetheless, it was the guy that you bumped into earlier in front of the library.

“You!” You screamed, glancing over to the coffee in his grasp. He was tossing it up like he won a battle or something, like a victory prize.

He groaned.

“Not you again,” he sighed, turning around to head over to the register.

“Wait!” You screamed, making him turn back to face you. You really didn’t mean to call him out like that. But you were desperate. No other coffee brand fit your taste. “Give me that coffee.”

“What? Are you fucking crazy. Finders keepers, losers weepers,” he said. “Go cry to your mommy about it.”

This son of a bitch.

"C'mon. Give me that coffee. Be a gentleman, would you?" you told him, reaching your hand out.

"What, no." he shrugged, shaking the can of coffee in his hand right in front of your face. "It's mine now."

This infuriated you. Who does he think he is?

You snatched his hand away. He looked a bit shocked for a second, before his "O" shaped mouth turned into a smirk. How could anyone be this annoying?

"FINE!!" you yelled, crossing your arms. "keep that stupid coffee all for your stupid self."

He shook the can in front of you for a second before dropping his hand, knowing you would swipe it away again.

"Okayy~" he said. "My stupid self will take this stupid coffee and leave~" he mockingly said. He turned around and walked to the register, laughing.

You cursed him in your head a million times, opening to fridge door to get a random cup of coffee you never tried before. This'll have to do.

୨ৎ

"fuck!" you screamed, jumping out of bed turning off your alarm clock. You were late. Late for your last class of the season before your exams. You sighed, running over to your bathroom to get ready.

Finally after around 7 minutes, you surprisingly got ready in comfortable sweatpants and a sweater, fitted nicely for the cold weather. You rushed toward your class building, running in and finally reaching your lecture hall.

"Ms Y/LN, you're late." your professor, Lee Minho, announced for the whole lecture hall to hear. Embarrassed, you bowed to him quickly, a way for you to say sorry, and quickly found your seat next to Felix, your best friend.

"Were you on your phone all night again?" he asked you as you sat down next to him, sighing.

"What? No!" you exclaimed, crossing your arms and glaring at him. "Who do you think I am?"

"Then what were you doing?"

Before you could answer him, your professor hit his pointer stick on his desk to get everyone's attention.

"You guys all remember about the exam you guys are taking in 2 days, yes?" he asked, followed by a unison of yes's. "Well good. I know some of you are having a bit of trouble studying. This is why I have a special guest."

That was when a figure walked through the lecture hall door dressed in a simple oversized t-shirt and sweatpants, followed by a backpack slung over one of his shoulder. You groaned when you saw the figure's face, sighing as Felix looked over to you for any answers. It was the guy that you kept running into. That jerk who had no manners.

"This is Seungmin, everyone." Mr lee announced, putting a hand on his shoulder. So that was his name. "He was top of the class last semester. He did leave.. worst decision, am i right? But he did agree to help students who are having trouble with the exam, since he too had to take it before."

That was when you noticed that he noticed you in the small crowd of people sitting in the lecture hall. He smirked. He fucking smirked.

"Do you know him?" You heard lix saying.

"Remember that guy I told you I ran into? That's him!" You complained, hiding your face into the palm of your hands as you let out a loud sigh.

"Oh girl.." he said, letting out a small airy laugh.

"If you are having trouble, sign the paper that is sitting on my desk at the end of the class. You'll have small, extra classes with Seungmin whenever you choose to, since the sign up sheet has time slots for each person. You could choose whether to have a 1 on 1 or a small group study session." Mr lee explained while Seungmin went over to his desk to hold up the sign up sheet.

"Stop." You whispered to Felix. "I need help. Like what the fuck are those questions on the study guide? ughh, but I can't ask him." you complained.

"Of course you can. Let's just sign up together for a group study session and we could stick together, yeah?" He offered. You accepted, knowing you had to get help in some way.

After class, Mr lee dismissed you guys so that you guys can either go and be free or sign up. You had to pack up, so Felix, who was faster than you, went ahead to sign both of you guys up.

You caught up with him soon after. His expression seemed bad.

"uhm.. so. Every group session that was available was full.. so I just signed up for a 1 on 1.. and that's the only option you also have."

"What!!'" you exclaimed, making way for you to see the sign up sheet for yourself. You groaned, looking at all the names that were next to the group study sessions. Well what choice did you have? You really did need some help to pass this exam.

୨ৎ

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! You repeated in your head while you were standing right in front of the door of the small mini lecture hall that is provided for students. Students such as Seungmin to tutor.

Based on the sign up sheet, you were the last one he was going to be tutoring. The campus was silent, with everyone being in their dorms or professors doing their own stuff.

You straightened your clothes, making sure he wouldn’t look down on you again, literally.

You pushed on the door, trying to make it open. Instead, a figure opened the door the other way, making you bump your head lightly and fall backwards. You fell, landing on your ass.

“Pfft” you heard. You looked up a bit, placing a hand on the spot on your forehead that got hit. It was yet again Seungmin who was looking down at you with a pair of glasses sitting lightly on the bridge of his nose. “Did you seriously try to push? It says pulls right below the handle.”

Oh.

“Ugh, whatever..” you protested, getting up by yourself, dusting your clothes off. “Why were you even coming out of that room? Now I have this bruise on my forehead..”

“I saw you struggling through the window,” he shrugged, going back into the mini lecture hall. “Come in when you’re ready.”

You groaned. This was not going to be a delightful hour.

୨ৎ

“Move this bla bla move that bla bla and the exponent bla bla graph this and the answer is….” Was all you heard while Seungmin sat in front of the desk you were sitting at, using his pencil and scribbling all over the paper. “Now you try.”

“Huh.”

“Huh,” He said mockingly, pushing his glasses higher. “Were you seriously not listening to me?”

“Not really..”

“You think you’re gonna pass the exam like this?”

“No..”

“Ok here. Let me explain it again. You see the first digit? Get that and multiply these to get the term. These terms are common, yes? Multiply them.”

He continued to explain, saying how this is a part of the easier questions.

“You try.” He said, placing the pencil he was holding in front of you, glancing at the pencil indicating for you to start.

After about 3 minutes, you placed the pencil down. Seungmin turned away from his own study to look at it.

“Nice. You got that right. Let me give you 3 more questions.” He said, quickly jotting down numbers, letters, and symbols. “There. Can you try these?”

You nodded.

10 minutes passed, and you handed the paper to him. He looked over your answers, nodding at some and squinting at others.

“This one’s wrong.” He explained, turning the paper so that you could see it and pointing at the second one you did. “Look at it again. Can you point out what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. It looked right in your eyes, but obviously it was wrong.

“On the second step you made a mistake. Simple mistake. You multiplied these wrong.”

“Oh.” you simply stated, grabbing the paper again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Unless you’re apologizing for how you’re wasting my time.”

“Whatever, jerk.” you fought back, grabbing your pencil and fixing your mistake.

Quickly, you handed him back the paper.

“There.”

“Ok.. that’s better.” He said, taking off his glasses. “Time’s up. Come back tomorrow, same time, yeah?”

You groaned loudly, loud enough so that he could hear you.

“Do you not want to pass your exams?”

“Never said that! It’s just a pain in the ass to be taught by you, especially.”

“Seems like someone doesn’t want to pass.” He remarked, packing his backpack with the books he had.

“No i do!” You said, packing your own things in your bag. That’s when you noticed him taking something out of his backpack.

“Here. For you.” He said, sliding over a can of coffee, your favorite brand, across the table.

“Ew.” you said, gliding it back.

“Didn’t want to say this but this girl that has a crush on me bought it for me. Gross! Take it. It’s gross like you.”

You scoffed.

“I don’t need coffee from someone like you.” You remarked, sticking your tongue out at him before running away and leaving the classroom.

“Brat.”

୨ৎ

“How was tutoring?” Felix asked you as you sat down minutes before your lecture with Mr lee started.

“It sucked! Total pain in the ass, yknow.”

“Well me personally it did help. I understood it more,” Felix said, patting your shoulder to comfort you. “He even said i was good enough that I don’t have to come back today!”

“Lucky!!” You exclaimed, pouting at him. “He told me I had to come back today. I suck.”

“It’s fine. As long as you pass the exam, yeah?”

“I guess.”

That’s when Mr lee tapped his pointer stick on his desk.

“I heard some students who signed up yesterday did very well! And i also heard some students still need more help. If you have any questions, feel free to go ask Seungmin in lecture hall 4a after this lecture is over.”

Obviously you knew you had to go again. He said it himself. How you dreaded for the moment lecture ended.

୨ৎ

“Ughhh. You’re back.” Seungmin said the moment you walked in through the door. He was leaning back against his own chair, legs crossed with a simple sweatpants and a white tank top with a windbreaker on.

You scoffed.

“You told me to be back, idiot.” You said, sitting down in your seat you were in last time.

“idiot?” Seungmin said in disbelief, letting out an airy laugh.

“Yes. Idiot.” You spat out, crossing your arms along with your legs, leaning back against the chair.

You were wearing a denim skirt today with tights underneath it with a white tank top, topped with a thick jacket over it. You were planning to hang out with your friends later that day, just to get some stress off before the exam tomorrow. With your legs crossed, your skirt rid up your thighs, making you more exposed. You didn’t care, you barely even noticed.

But he did. Seungmin did.

Your plush thighs wrapped around the tights had him staring for a second, looking back up at you in your eyes with a glare.

“Fucking brat.”

What? What did he just call you?

“What?” You said in disbelief, rolling your eyes and glaring up at him. “What did you just call me?”

“You really aren’t the type to listen, aren’t you?” He said, walking closer to you. “I said you’re a fucking brat.”

“What the fuck? Why are you so-“ you started to say. But before you could even let another word out, he leaned down, putting his face as close to yours as possible. You felt his breath every time he exhaled. You were squirming in your seat. Why was he so close? It was obvious that Seungmin was the good looking type. It was a fact. You even overheard some girls while walking to your lecture saying how hot he was. You never really saw it until he put his face close to yours until it was only a centimeter away.

His eyes were dark, alluring you into his deep, dark brown eyes. His nose was pretty sharp, with light, natural blush covering his cheeks. You looked down even more. His lips were as plush as marshmallow. So plush. So soft to the point you wanted to kis-

What? Why were you thinking this? You don’t like Seungmin. You hate him. So why was your core pulsing around nothing and wetting your panties every second.

“Tell me you don’t want this” he said under his breath. “I’ll stop.” But you didn’t answer, staring into his deep eyes, wanting him.

“please..” you whispered. You heard a faint brat before grabbing your chin with one hand, placing the other on the desk next to you to steady himself, and leaning in to kiss you.

Why the hell did he kiss you?

Truth be told, he liked you ever since he glanced over and saw you studying your ass off one day during his library visit. You looked cute. Your round glasses perched on your nose bridge that you got rid of when it was day time with a lollipop in between your pink, plump lips.

Then, he saw you sometimes in the hallways, all flirty and talkative with your gfs and your friends. You seemed so bratty with the way you talked with your friends. It was hot.

When he bumped into you that one day, he couldn’t help but be happy. That was also when he realized that you were definitely a brat.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he sometimes came to him dorm, lock himself in his room, and jack himself off to the thought of you. To the thought of him brat taming a bitch like you. You under his hands squirming while taking in his cock in your tight cunt. Imagining this would only lead to soiling his clothes he was wearing.

He couldn’t help it.

You were already hot enough when you didn’t wear make up, but seeing you all dressed up would make him go crazy. Like you were all dressed up for him. For his cock.

Your lips were like cushion against his. So soft. So warm. So hot.

You whimpered into the kiss, which he quickly swallowed. His tongue caressed your bottom lip, making you slightly part them, allowing his tongue to intrude your mouth.

Out of breath you pulled back with a saliva string still connecting you and Seungmin. You were panting, looking up at him.

“J-jerk” you managed to stutter out, not sure why you said it. He got face to face with you again, landing light slaps onto your cheek.

“Are you gonna listen to me, brat?”

You whined a bit at the pain you felt on the right side of your face. He chuckled.

“You like pain? Are you a pain slut?”

You nodded slowly. No one knew this. It was your own little secret. But the stare Seungmin gave you was so endearing it just came out of you. He smiled, grabbing you by the wrist to pull you up. He swung you, making you hit the edge of the table. He leaned closer yet again. “Gonna let me do what I want?”

You smirked a bit, nodding slowly yet again.

He leaned in to make out with you again. Which you gladly accepted. Mid-kiss, his hands slowly went down to grab you by the waist. He lifted you up, placing you to sit on top of the desk. He pulled away. You were squeezing your thighs, trying to get some friction to your core. That was when he took his hand and started to grope your plush thighs. You let out a sigh of a moan.

“Open for me, yeah?”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You said, glaring at him.”

“You’re such a fucking brat.”

You did as he said contrast to your words, slowly spreading your legs out for Seungmin. He grinned. Oh how you wanted to slap the fuck out of him. He took his jacket off at that time, too, revealing his pretty slender arms with muscles hidden underneath. It wasn’t very visible, but him being so close to you, you saw the hidden veins in them and it turned you in more.

His slender fingers started to rub your clothed core, making you whine.

“W-wait.” You looked up to him. “What if we get caught? The door is unlocked.”

“Better keep quiet than, yeah?” He smirked, grinning a proud smile as he made his way toward your tight’s waistband, until you heard a loud RIP.

“What the fuck?!!” You exclaimed looking down to see a big, gaping hole in your tights in your crotch area. “You better pay for those.”

All he did was shrug, before bringing his fingers closer to your panties, gliding his digits over the lace on the fabric.

“Lace, huh?”

He slid his fingers over your clothed cunt, gathering the wetness that was dripping out of you, making a wet patch on your panties.

“You’re so wet. All wet for me baby?”

You nodded, looking down at his fingers go to work on you. They were long, in general, his hand size was huge.

“Can I?” He asked while tugging slightly at your panties. You looked dazed, not even wanting to fight it off. You wanted this. He took that as a yes, sliding your panties to one side, the cold air now hitting your warm cunt. You winced at the feeling. You felt his digits going below, but without any warning, his cold finger penetrated your warm cunt, making your whine out at the feeling. It really was long. The cold added an extra bit of sensation. Seungmin chuckled, landing a peck on your cheek.

“Baby can’t handle one finger?”

You shook your head. Who did he think you were.

“I c-can” you muttered out, which allowed him to slide in a second finger. You grabbed onto his bare forearms to balance yourself. He curled his fingers in and out of you, making whines and moans fall out of your lips. His long, slender fingers reached your g spot, making you bend over with high pitched whimpers falling out of tour mouth.

“Shh,” he quieted you. “Remember, there still might be some people outside.” You covered your mouth with your hand, making him laugh, still curling his fingers deep into you. He knew there was barely any people on the campus at this time, let alone this building. But why would he tell you that?

He pulled out his digits, making you cry from the feeling of loss.

“Seungmin, I want you.” You whined, but he shut you up with his fingers that were just inside of you. You groaned at the taste of yourself, looking up at him with teary eyes from both pleasure and yearn.

He felt his cock grow harder in the confinements in his pants. You teary eyed with your mascara running loose slowly but surely.

“You’re gonna get me, alright? Just be patient, brat.”

He pulled away his digits out of your mouth, giving a small kiss on your lips before pulling his pants down.

It was hard to see due to the bagginess of his sweatpants, but his growing bulge was clearly visible to you now. He was big. Or at least you could tell from the angle you were sitting in. Oh how badly you wanted his cock to penetrate you so deeply-

“You’re staring.”

You woke up from your thoughts, looking back up to look at Seungmin’s eyes. He’s smirking. He could tell what you wanted.

“Get down.” He said, nodding to the floor in front of him.

“What?” You fought back. “I’m not doing that! That’s gonna spoil my-“

“Didn’t you hear me? Get on the floor.”

A shiver was sent down your spine, along with the feeling of your panties getting wetter and wetter.

You obliged, slowly scooting off the table before you got on your knees, feeling the cold floor hit your warm skin. You were now face to face with his crotch, still confined. You looked up at him.

What was with you always below him and him always looking down at you with that condescending look?

He hooked his finger through the waistband of his boxers, pulling it down slightly, making his cock bounce up, his tip hitting his abdomen, and it was right in your face.

It was big. His cock was long with a bit of girth with veins running along his length. His red tip already spilling out some precum.

You looked back up at him to see him smirking the shit out of his face.

“Suck me off and I’ll see if you could have my cock, ok?”

You wanted to beat the shit out of him. Who did he think he was to control you like that.

But you couldn’t help it.

You leaned in a bit, now with your lips only a few centimeters away from the tip of his cock. You stuck out your tongue, coming in contact with his salty tip covered in precum. You winced at the taste. You wrapped your lips around his tip, now slowly taking in more and more of his length. You heard him groan. You smirked, still having his length in your mouth.

You slowly lifted your head, then going back in, repeating this movement while still hearing him slowly pant out.

“Fuck- you’re so stubborn” he grunted out before he grabbed your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He bobbed your head on his length himself, making you moan along with him grunting with the feeling of your warm lips wrapping around his length.

You moaned around his length, causing vibrations to hit his girth. He grunted.

Seungmin pulled you off his length, making you cough a bit, wiping the saliva that was dripping on your chin with the palm of your hand.

He pulled you back up, tugging your hair with his hand that was still tangled up in a makeshift ponytail. He brought your face closer, giving you a kiss before setting you back up on the desk.

Your pussy was throbbing, begging for attention. You pouted at Seungmin, who had a thirsty look in his eyes while eyeing your figure up and down while you were sitting there, neatly on his desk.

"Just fuck me already, min." you argued, looking up at him with a pleading look.

"Be patient, fucking brat." he retorted. Despite his words, he took his cock in his hand, stroking it slowly while staring at your face who was basically drooling at the sight of his tip disappearing and reappearing in the fist of his hand. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to get some friction on your cunt. He chuckled, noticing your expression and your movements. "You're eager, pup. I'll give what you want, just be patient, okay?"

The pet name made you squirm. Who knew you were such a slut for meager names?

He slapped your thigh, indicating you to open your legs so that your sweet cunt could be exposed for him. You obliged, opening them slowly until your wet pussy was out just for him.

"You obey easily, don't you? Just like a loyal dog." You nodded, eagerly, only focused on what would his cock feel like when he stretched you out. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan awaiting to come out just from the desire of his length.

He got closer, leaning in to give you a kiss on the lips, distracting you while he brought his cock closer and closer to your tight pussy. He pulled away, looking down to focus on you. He slapped your pussy with his hot length, making you wince from the sensation. It wasn't enough. You wanted more. No. You needed more.

"Just fuck me.. you're so slow, min," you pouted.

"Stop fucking complaining," he hissed, before lining his length against your hole and thrusting in without warning. You gasped, feeling his cock penetrate you so deeply. He grunted himself, feeling your tight walls engulf his length. "fuck- you're so tight pup."

You mewled as he pulled his length out, just for him to thrust back in, deep inside your soppy cunt. He thrusted for a bit, making you pant and a chorus of moans and whimpers fall out of your lips. He, too, let out groans.

He pulled you by the hair, forcing you to look up at him. Your eyes swelling up in tears as his rhythm didn’t stop.

“Look at me, pup.” You did. Focusing your attention on Seungmin’s face. He smirked. “Good little puppy, yeah?” he said before bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. Spit everywhere, drooling down your chin, teeth clashing as he thrusted into you. You whimpered, the pain in your scalp as he pulled you in closer. He let go, a spit string connecting both of your guys’ tongues.

“M-min,” you managed to whimper out. He hummed in response, grabbing you by the waist to thrust in deeper. You mewled. The knot in your stomach began to tighten, making you grip along the edge of the table you were so nicely placed on.

“Gonna cum, little puppy?”

you nodded fastly, moving your grip onto his tank top. It tightened, your grip as long as the knot in your stomach.

He maneuvered your right leg a bit higher, and with a final thrust, you came. Your jaw dropped, eyes shut as pleasure overwhelmed you as he kept hitting your cervix.

With a few more, he too, came, coating your walls white. You both breathed heavily together in unison. Looking at his face filled with pleasure was so.. so alluring. His eyebrows scrunched together with his eyes closed.

He pulled out, shoving his length back in his cock as he packed his bags.

“M-min?” You said in confusion, still practically naked sitting on top of his desk. He looked back up at you with his backpack hung over his shoulder.

“C’mon. Round two at my place.” He said it so casually, but also as a sort of question.

“Uh..” you muttered, hopping off the desk, smoothing out your skirt. “Yea-“

Before you even finished, he grabbed you by the wrist, turning off the lights to the mini lecture hall and leading you out the door.

#skz #skz x reader #stray kids #skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz smut #seungmin #kim seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin smut #seungmin stray kids #seungmin imagines #kpop imagine #kpop

[lewdmommie]

🕷️Caught in your web🕷️

Miguel O’haraxspiderwoman!reader

Warning:18+NSFW,Breeding,Praise,language,violence, blood play, rough sex, Bondage, size kink etc

Summary: Spider y/n falls through a portal and ends up in the year 2099

Comment if you’d like part 2🎀

Word count: 5.k

The cuffs around your wrist squeeze tighter the more you struggle against them. That weird electric prickly feeling begins to set in before you decide to conserve your energy. It was useless with your web supply cut off, A burning sears across your cheek as the guard delivers another blow. A metallic taste of blood pools in your mouth,you spit resentfully at his army green boots.

“If that’s all you got we’re gonna be here all day.” You sneer. The guard raises his hand pulling back with more momentum than before, striking you again. Your head hangs with exhaustion, sweat dripping onto the concrete floor. “The serum. I want it.” The sound of calculated clicks fill the space as a voice makes its way closer and closer. The footsteps get louder before stopping completely, Your spidey senses are off the charts. A calloused finger taps the underside of your chin putting your bloodied face on display. “Fascinating…your wounds have already started repairing themselves” your head whips away from his touch,repulsed. He continues “That serum is the missing link to a suit that could withstand the molecular pressure of traveling through the multiverse. The human body is far too fragile to have its cells ripped apart and woven back together, trust me we’ve tested that theory.” The blind fold is snatched away from your eyes. You squint at the sudden change in lighting, the room is fuzzy before coming into focus. You’re in what seems to be a warehouse… a huge warehouse. This building had to be connected to something bigger and judging by the advanced technology, Array of computers, and Enormous Hexagonal machine at the center of the room, it was most likely a laboratory of some kind. A man in a midnight suit towers over you with an unhinged look in his eye. “You’re my missing link.” He practically drools. A feeling of dread stabs you, this wasn't looking good.

“You’ll have to kill me. Oh wait you can’t… because… your missing link…it’s in my head.” You smile giving a small labored laugh.

“Oh Doctor Y/LN who needs your mind when I have your body. These powers you have…I assume you weren’t born this way. This isn’t some comic book fairytale. People aren’t born special. We make ourselves special…and that’s exactly what you did, isn't it doctor?” He crouches glaring deeply into your eyes.

“I am going to wring every last drop of serum from your body, you will be nothing but a husk when I am done with you.” He grins before shooting back to his feet.

“Activate the machine and get her hooked up to the destabilizer. I want this thing up and running by tonight” He places a cigarette between his lips, striking it with a gold plated lighter, smoke swirls in the air.

“Kill her nice and slow for wasting so much of my time.” He Flicks the still burning cigarette in your direction,the red hot cherry barely missing your skin.

Two guards force you to your feet, dragging you to a chair riddled with tubes and wires.

Shit.shit.shit. You think, going limp and using your body weight to slow them down. They unlock your handcuffs in order to strap you into the machine, without thinking you shoot two webs in random directions grabbing whatever they land on and yank them towards the guards. A desk and filing shelf come flying at the men knocking them unconscious. You attempt to shoot a web at the guard who stood at the entrance but they unfortunately got away, you hear them call for backup on their radio.

I’m outnumbered… your mind races

A red button in the middle of the control center catches your eye.

That’s my way out, you conclude flipping over the unconscious men and landing gracefully on top of the command center.

Big scary red button…what can go wrong? With nothing to lose you slam the button. The machine activates with an obnoxious roar, lights begin to flicker from the insane power output. You walk up the stairs leading to the device, it seems to be made up of millions of tiny pixels, each spec representing a possible reality or dimension. Colors you didn’t even know existed vibrated within this portal.

“Don’t you dare! This is my life’s work!” A guttural scream shreds the air.

“Well I guess…better luck next life?” You give a cheeky salute before falling into the unknown.

~

“ay dios mío, I don’t need a spidey sense to see she’s wearing a suit.” The voice sounds distant but close enough for you to make out their conversation. “Yes I am sure, I checked, there are web shooters…right, she hasn’t woken up yet…Okay.” he sighs. Your eyes flutter open and you’re greeted by a blue sky and fluffy white clouds. A Dark shadow cast over your view before you can fully appreciate it. Another me?… you think to yourself unsure if you’re seeing things right or if it’s a hallucination from the interdimensional travel.

“Where am I?” You push off the ground with a grunt.

“Nueva York” He states with an annoyed tone.

“Nueva York? You mean New York City? How did I end up in New York City…” You ramble frantically.

“Idiota, Nueva York, have you been living under a rock for the last century?” He kneels down edging forward evaluating your features. With a curious hand, he brushes your hair back. You wince as his finger accidentally glides over the fresh slash on your cheek. For a split second his eyes go wide with concern before resting back to judgemental slits.

“What happened here?” His hand hovers over your wound, keeping a good distance to avoid hurting you any further. Miguel didn’t have many moral compasses but one of his top three rules was to always protect women and children. Any villains who dared make the mistake of harming either were given no mercy. Killing was never his first option, but it wasn’t completely off the table if needed. His blood boils at the sight of you, his instinct is to destroy whoever would do something so vile. His teeth bare down, the tips of his fangs prick the smooth skin of his inner lip, a subtle hint of blood hits his tongue.

“Who did this to you?” He asks again, more aggressive than before.

“The Director.” You mutter. Running from a fight wasn’t in your nature but The Director’s forces were too much to handle. You needed to get away, regroup, and being shackled to a cold slab of metal wasn’t the best place to do that.

“Director, most likely a new wannabe villain…leave this to me. You’ve had enough fun playing dress up for one day.” He says as he gets back up. His eyebrow perks inquisitively for a second before turning around. “Cool toy by the way.” He waves off. Impulsively you shoot a web that whips around his ankles holding him in place. Knees bending Miguel centers himself, stabilizing his balance.

“How’s that for a toy?” You push off the ground, palms flat, landing a forward front flip straight onto your feet.

You approach cautiously, nearly walking on the tips of your toes, he doesn’t budge or even speak. He looks dangerous, measuring in at 6'9, his chiseled physique, red eyes that seemed to see right through you, and fangs didn’t help much with looking friendly. Standing at arm's length. You speak slowly.

“I’m not here to fight-”

“Wouldn’t be much of a fight.” he growls, baring his claws.

“It’s my turn for questioning.” You say.

“You must have stolen that device. I will have to detain you.” He lunges at you stumbling clumsily.

“What’s your name?” You question. Miguel stays silent for a while pondering if he should give out such sensitive information to an imposter.

“Isn’t it obvious,Spider-Man.” He states finally looking down at the red spider symbol on his suit.

“This can’t be real. It couldn’t have actually worked. I thought I’d get sent to a McDonald’s a few blocks away or something…I’m really in a different universe” you grumble to yourself, pacing back and forth.

“Are you on something right now?” His brow scrunches accentuating the lines in his forehead.

“W-what do you mean by that! Are you asking if I’m on drugs?” You’re snatched away from your personal monologue by his ludicrous accusation.

“It’s alright I'm used to super fans, just tell me where you live and I can get you back home safely.”

“Super fans? Do you think I’m supposed to be dressed up as you? My suit is way better than yours; if anything you’re cosplaying me!” You wince, doubling over, the adrenaline has started wearing off.

“You need a hospital. Libérame(set me free), I can help you.” He struggles against your webs once more,failing to break free.

“I am fine I just need to rest for…a…minute-“ your words trail off.

Miguel breaks into action, the webs resist before shredding apart as he surges forward catching you in his solid arms.

“Joder(fuck),she’s out cold” he supports your body. His web shoots, sticking to the opposite building. A strong arm locks you in place as he jumps swinging through the maze of businesses and skyscrapers.

~

shooting up in a cold sweat, your chest heaves heavily struggling for breath.

“Just a dream” you exhale relieved holding the blanket to your bare chest.

“Oh great,You’re awake.” At the corner of the room Spider-Man leans against the wall,smirking.

Your hands scramble for more blanket to shield your nude body.

“Where are my clothes?!” A hot blush creeps on your cheeks.

“I haven’t quite figured that out myself, some time after you passed out your…suit somehow submerged itself into your flesh. Disintegrating right in front of my eyes” He looks down stroking his chin.

“The suit deactivated because of my low brain activity, it thought I was transforming back. Oh god did you see anything?” You ask curling into yourself.

“Wasn’t much to see.” He shrugs.

You scoff before noticing a fresh set of clothes sprawled in the chair beside the bed.

“I came to let you know where the bathroom is, I’m sure you want to get cleaned up after everything that’s happened.”

“Why did you bring me here…and where is here exactly?”

“This is my place. I couldn’t just leave a fellow spider person unconscious on a rooftop. It doesn’t really help the brand. Whatever you have inside you is way too powerful to let a villian get lucky and stumble upon.” He explains. So it’s about my powers huh? Typical. You think holding eye contact with the spider jerk. The color of his eyes stand out to you, their vibrant red hue shines in the dim light. The more you observe him the more intense his features become, he’s extremely handsome under that constant grimace. You find your eyes lingering on his spandex clad body, tracing how the fabric molds to the shape of each muscle. So tight you could see even the slightest twitch or flex. He folds his arms awaiting your reply, This movement forces you to look down at the sheets,flustered.

“Y-yeah that’s true, thanks, I’ll uh go take that shower now.”

“The bathrooms down the hall to the left, I have towels folded on the sink along with toiletries. Have a nice bath…you need it.” He holds his nostrils closed exiting the room dramatically.

Lifting your arm you take a quick sniff. Your nose scrunches at the smell of battle. Interdimensional travel is quite the workout. Your toes wiggle on the cool hardwood floor seeing if it’d crumble underneath your feet. To your surprise it doesn’t, meaning this place is actually real life and not just some simulation. Peeking your head from behind the security of the door frame, you scan the area before scurrying down the hall. Miguel stands in the living area mumbling something under his breath.

“So her picture is nowhere in the police database?…no, ugh Tan molesto(so annoying), check again lyla.” He commands.

He really thinks I’m a crazy stalker fan you think in disbelief, you sneak down the hall stepping through the open bathroom door, you close it behind yourself . The bathroom had dark simplistic themes with splashes of red that popped. The sink and bathtub are made with the same charcoal colored marble, the sink is neatly decorated with necessities such as a toothbrush, electric razor, hair brush, cologne and deodorant. To the left of the sink are expertly folded black towels, one for washing and one for drying. The mirror is larger than average and sits rectangular at the same length as the sink.Turning around a glimpse of your back stops you in your tracks. The wounds have closed but the scars and bruises remain. A reminder of your goal…to take down the director. Your fingers trail the scar on your cheek and anger

bubbles from a place deep within . He’d taken everything from you and he had a debt to pay for those atrocities. You wanted his life as payment. Pulling back the scarlet shower curtain you twist the handle all the way to hot, nothing was better than a steaming hot shower to wash away a day. Grabbing the small washcloth you unroll it and step into the tub, holding it under the water before lathering with the body wash propped at the edge of the bathtub. It smelled strongly of musk and deep woody undertones befitting for an attractive egotistical Superhero. The scent of him causes your thighs to squeeze shut as the throbbing sets in. You close your eyes, gliding the towel slowly over your skin imagining his touch. Your head falls back as the towel travels up your neck, the muscles in your throat contract as you swallow back a moan imagining his large hands gripping you there. Washing your chest the fibers of the towel cause a gentle friction over your now stiff nipples earning a small yelp from you. Everything is feeling too good. The bathroom is steamy, the scent of him floating all around you. Absent-mindedly your fingers slide down the length of your stomach trailing a line to your pulsating heat. The hot shower stream collides with your sensitive flesh. The water sprays firmly on your chest stimulating your taut pearls. It’s too much to handle, behind your eye lids you can see him stepping into this shower and fucking you ruthlessly against the shower wall. That rebellious finger teases the slick line of your womanhood, just barely pushing past the soft folds. The tip of your finger slides over your slippery bud, a soft moan falls from your lips. Miguel notices you’ve been in the shower for some time now and begins to worry for your well-being. Just as his fist hovers over the door to knock, he is stopped in his tracks at the sound of desperate whimpers and groans. She isn’t…she couldn’t be. He shakes away the notion concluding you may just be sick from today's events. Regardless he didn’t want to disturb you unless you called for him. For some reason he couldn’t seem to walk away from the door, on the contrary he takes a step closer, curiosity getting the better of him. His heart rate skyrockets as he listens intently.

“Uhn p-please touch me…please.” You beg.

The tips of his ears are warm with blush. The crotch of his suit tightens, suffocating the raging hard on he desperately tries to suppress. His forehead rests on the door as he tries to slow his heavy breathing. Blood rushes through his veins enhancing his already heightened senses. It’s almost as if he could feel you through the wall, the only thing separating him was the door,which he could break down with ease. His lips part exposing sharp ivory fangs, his breath is labored and his body shaking with need. He needed to release these feelings deep inside you. breaking down that door and completely having his way with you on the bathroom floor was the only way to tame the fire burning deep inside him. Every muscle in his body tensed and quivered as he became solid with arousal. I need her. I need to be inside her now. A voice growls in his mind. Suddenly the water cuts off. He steps away from the door chest heaving up and down. Biting his lip he walks away, going into his bedroom to find a change of clothes that will allow his throbbing erection to feel a bit more comfortable. You grab the dry off towel and secure it around your frame.

The clothes. You think realizing they were left in the bedroom.

With a quick peek outside, the coast is clear the spider jerk is nowhere in sight so you B line it to the bedroom. An audible gasp escapes as you cover your mouth in shock. There he stood half naked wearing only a pair of navy blue briefs. His body could have been sculpted by gods, never had you seen someone so beautiful. He turns around glaring at you through his curly hair, eyes gleaming like ruby’s.

“I-I left my clothes, I’m sorry I didn’t know you were in here.” You quickly look away, the image still fresh in your mind.

“It’s fine. I was just changing.” He slips on his white tee shirt, closing the drawer.

“Right of course this is your room, in your house, and your clothes…” you ramble.

“Yeah. Sure. Hurry and get dressed, we need to talk.” He says with an unamused tone.

“O-kay!” He bumps your shoulder as he exits the room.

“Ouch.” You exclaim, holding your arm.

Grumbling angrily under your breath, you pick up the oversized tee and shorts combo. The clothes swallow you naturally considering his massive size. You make your way to the living room. your hands work tying your hair back as you sit on the opposite side of the couch watching him closely.

“I was thinking about your suit.” He starts.

“Please don’t bring up how I was naked earlier.” You plead hiding your face.

“W- no I’m not talking about…that.” His voice becomes deeper as he rubs the back of his neck reminiscing on how hard the sound of your voice made him just minutes ago.

“I’m talking about the technology. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen…something that hasn’t been explored, Ever. Something almost otherworldly.” He scratches his head in confusion.

“Okay so now do you believe I’m not some psycho fangirl?”

“It isn’t completely off the table. But if you are really a spider person…prove it. Prove it isn’t some kind of illusion.” He leans back, arms stretched across the back of the couch, his legs parted comfortably. You can’t help your eyes wandering to the visible bulge that tented between his thighs.

“What was the question again?” Your eyes are glossy and cheeks flustered. Miguel follows your line of vision seeing the lustful gaze consume you. His cock twitches, making him shoot up, using his arms to cover the evidence.

“Prove you have powers!” He raises his voice slightly.

“Okay okay no need to yell.” You stand taking a few steps away from the couch.

His eyes follow you curiously as you stop about three feet in front of him. In mere seconds his hands are forced together by a string of abnormally strong webbing. Wrapping the loose string Around your palm,you pull yanking him to his feet.

“The more you struggle the tighter it becomes.” You inform him. His eyes are low and his lips have a rosy hot blush. You advance forward using the remaining web to bind his wrist tighter. With one final pull it is secured firmly in place.

“ Te deseo tanto(I want you so much)” Miguel moans before quickly regaining his composure.

“Huh what does that mean?” You inquire unsure if you heard him correctly.

“N-nothing it doesn’t mean anything. Where are the webs coming from?”

“Here.” You point to your wrist.

“Then why do you have a web shooter? Sounds like a trick to me.” He says through clenched teeth.

“The shooter strengthens the quality of my webs. It wouldn't be fun swinging fifty feet in the air and having a web break on you.”

“That’s true. You seem to have some experience with this lifestyle. I can assume you’ve been this way for a long time.”

“Yeah…a few years actually.” You sound far away.

“I can’t believe another spider person has gone undetected for so long.” He looks deep in thought.

“I'm not from here exactly.”

“Did you move from a different state? A lot of things have changed after the Heroic age so it would make sense you were in hiding-“ he speaks matter-a factly.

“What year is it?” You interrupt.

“Year? I think you might have hit your head pretty hard. It's the year 2099 don’t you remember?” The world starts spinning around you.

“20…99.You’re Spider-Man from the year 2099? This isn’t right, I shouldn't be here!” Tears stream down your face as you realize just how far away from home you really are.

Without thinking he lifts his bound hands over your head pulling you flush against his rock solid chest.

His chin nestles in your hair, you can feel his warm breath on your cheek. With each sob he pulls you closer,deeper into him.

“Eres demasiado bonita para llorar.” He whispers in your ear. The sudden change in language catches your attention, halting the flow of tears.

“W-what does that mean?” Your head leans back, staring up at him with blurry eyes.

“You’re too pretty to cry.” He breathes.

Giving into the temptation his arms lock around your waist hoisting you to his eye level. You nod, wanting to listen to the only thing that made sense in that moment ,the only thing that felt real…your body. He exhales a sigh of relief at your nod of consent taking advantage of your position he closes the distance with his lips. You hadn’t even recognized the amount of tension in your body until completely relaxing in his arms. The kiss is hungry as you two struggle for power, he clearly wants to take control but you wouldn’t make it that easy. You snake your arms out of his grasp, tangling your hands in his chestnut curls. Your feet are dangling off the ground, taking advantage of this you wrap your legs around his waist. His tongue sneakily slips past your lips petting the inside of your mouth, tasting you for the very first time.

“Tan deliciosa(so delicious)” he mumbles into your mouth.

His warm wet appendage entangles with your eager tongue dancing together in a tango of passion. With a pained groan he forces his wrist apart breaking through the barrier of your webs, desperate to touch you.

“Need…more” he is no longer able to articulate full sentences. The lust drowns him and he pulls you down with him. His now free hands roam your body leaving no place undiscovered. His giant hand grips the back of your neck pulling you deeper into the kiss. He holds you still as he finds solace in your lips, there is no place he’d rather be in this moment than Buried hilt deep inside your walls. His other hand grips your ass kneading the soft skin. As you begin to slip, he bounces you with one arm, holding you even tighter. He blindly sits down on the couch, a bit of a bumpy ride but you land gently straddling his hips. He pulls away to stare fervently at you with rose colored eyes. Without bothering to remove your shirt in a humane way, he slashed a talon between your breasts, roughly splitting the fabric.

“So fucking beautiful” he runs his tongue up the length of your torso all the way to your neck. You tremble beneath his touch. He plants warm kisses up your throat, sucking and nipping the smooth flesh. His fang pokes dangerously close with each lap, threatening to sink in at any moment. He softly bares down breaking just the surface of your skin, a small trickle of blood pools at both sides of the bite. You gasp at the sudden pain but quickly melt as he licks it away. The fact you’re both spider people his venom doesn’t work the same way it would on a human. It is not poisonous or toxic. Your body processes it by turning it into dopamine intensifying your bodily sensitivity. The effects take action immediately; electricity vibrates every cell in your body.

“W-wait i don’t even know your name…your real name.” You huff trying to catch your breath.

“Miguel. Yours?” He smiles, the lines in his face stand out making him look even more charming.

“Y/n” your eyes move side to side as he leans in again this time lower.

“Nice to meet you, Now por favor fóllame(please fuck me)

“Oh god…ah…please” you plead as he sucks your erect peaks. He sucks and teases your nipples, he moans as you grab his hair for support.

“Uhn…mamita harder, pull harder” he groans, flicking his tongue over your hard pearls. You obey, pulling with a little more force than before. A shiver runs down his spine, his eyes flutter as they roll back.

In an instant he turns around flipping you onto your back, he kneels between your legs on the living room floor. He ejects a web plastering your ankles together. Your back is flat on the couch cushion and your lower half hangs being supported only by his firm grip on your ankles. Just as before he doesn’t bother with removing your bottoms. He lifts your legs up, creating tension in the fabric and slicing at the resistance point splitting the shorts in two exposing your eager slit.

“Oh dios te necesito ahora(oh god I need you right now)” he pants.

Using the hand grasping your ankles, he pushes your legs back putting your plush entrance on display. He salivates at the sight of you so vulnerable and open before him, the muscles in your legs tremble as he bends down splaying soft kisses on your inner thighs. You can feel his warm breath on your wet folds. A growl rumbles in his throat as he traces the line of your flower with his tongue, savoring your nectar .

“f-fuck…s-so good” you moan, biting back a scream of pleasure. Utilizing his free hand, he teases your slick canal with two thick digits before easing them inside. His tongue and fingers work in unison petting your inner and outer sweet spots. Never had he felt someone so tight and inviting, his cock twitches as your walls squeeze his fingers. Pumping his fingers in and out he simultaneously licks your clit, sucking and lapping at the bundle of nerves. Your hips buck and hands find his hair grinding deeper into his touch. He picks up the pace as your pussy quivers. his head moves rhythmically as he absolutely devours you. His chin is slick with your juices as he licks and sucks every inch of your inner labia. Your legs twitch and shake as the climax edges near, maintaining the same speed he pushes you past your breaking point.

“Can’t take anymore…i-its too much.” You sob gripping him tighter.

“It’s okay estás haciendo un buen trabajo(You’re doing such a good job) don’t give up on me…that’s it…good girl.” He praises finger fucking you through your orgasm. With a final yelp the gates open and you cum harder than you’ve came before, coating his fingers in your delicious cream. Slow and gently he slips his fingers from your spent cunt leaving you shivering and incoherent. Instinctively he puts those same fingers in his mouth sucking away the mess you made. Before you can even think of catching your breath, he sits up removing the barrier of his shirt and shorts. The elastic waistband of his shorts slides down exposing the defined V lines on his hips. His throbbing manhood burst free, the veins pulsing visibly with frustration. His head hangs hiding his red hot blush and low set eyelids, this feeling could only be described as animalistic. Using his fangs he shreds the webbing holding your ankles in place, setting you free. Your knees fall in exhaustion at either side of you giving him full access to your cunt once again. He towers over you, hands on the back of the couch to support his massive weight. You feel his cock fall thick and heavy on your glistening lips. He breathes deeply, rubbing his member along your split, his mouth opens slightly a pained expression pulls to his face.

“Me vuelves loca(you drive me crazy) I can’t wait anymore.” He growls lining his tip with your slick hole. He plunges deep and desperately inside you, his claws slice the back of the couch as he ruts into you. Those piercing red eyes bore into yours as he pistons into your pillowy heat. Your pussy clenches sucking him in further, the tip of his cock slams your g spot with each stroke. The grooves of your inner walls massage all eight inches of his thick rod.

“Me encanta tu cuerpo(I love your body)…te sientes muy bien(you feel so good)…No puedo resistirme a ti(I can’t resist you)” he groans low in your ear. He places his calloused hand under your knee pushing it back and opening you wider. He pumps in and out at a fervent pace, suddenly he switches the position of his hands to rest on your hips. With his Cock buried deep inside you, he stands hoisting you by your waist. Naturally your legs hang around his hips leaving you at his mercy. You’re a frightening 6’9 inches from the ground being fucked like a rag doll. His hands grip your ass as he rocks you back and forth on his dick. Your toes curl as he rails you slamming up while forcing you down on his cock. It’s hard and needy. He can’t control himself, his talons prick your flesh as he grips you tightly. His manhood throbs begging for release,head falling back as he forces you up and down on his shaft.

“Need to cum…can’t hold it f-fuck.” With a final thrust he slams deep within exploding and spraying your walls with hot cum. He holds you close as his body trembles, a thin layer of sweat glistens on his body. His cock twitches still hard inside you.

“Another round,hermosa(beautiful)?” He pants.

“Yes please.” You breathe.

#smut x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara smut #into the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #fluff #smut #smut fanfiction #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #slow burn #fanfic #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara fic #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #spiderman2099fic

[sheislethal]

Jinx with a gun kink?? We all know deep down she has one ;)

JINX x reader

WARNINGS: {MDNI} Fem! Reader, NSFW, mature themes, improper use of a gun, etc.

Notes: Jinx has been aged up to 18. I literally foam at the mouth for this woman- she owns me.

“Gunplay”

Hoverboards scattered throughout the sky in a blur. This was the third fucking time this week. It was like she had been doing this on purpose.

Jinx used Pow-Pow to mercilessly rain bullets on us. I weaved through the air with skill, successfully avoiding them all. She fired without a care, but we used coordination and strategic planning to remain untouched.

Jinx's blue braids danced through the wind as her scowl deepened. It reminded me of how she would look as a child when I would beat her in shooting competitions.

I missed those days, but they were gone now. All that was left of my childhood best friend, and puppy love, was Jinx. Someone entirely different.

My eyes narrowed behind my vixen mask, impatience controlling my actions. I wanted to get this over with.

I led my hoverboard to fly just inches from Jinx and hopped off, capturing her in a tackle. She yelped in surprise as we rolled over each other on the concrete.

I grit my teeth together once I pinned her in a straddle. Her eyes were furious as I wrapped my hands around her throat, lifting her up only to slam her against the ground.

She growled with rage before sending a punch across my jaw. The achy sensation distracted me long enough for her to push me onto the floor. She used her hand to pin my wrists to the ground.

"Fuck you, y/n!" She shouted. I winced once I saw Jinx grab her graffiti-covered pistol. My heart stopped momentarily as I was convinced she was going to shoot me.

Her deep blue eyes narrowed, which was the last thing I saw before she slammed the hilt of the gun against my temple, causing everything to go black.

~~~~

My head panged uncomfortably as I came to. "What the..." I muttered, opening my eyes slightly.

I took in my surroundings and groaned, throwing my head back. I was in Jinx's lair.

I scoffed as I tried pulling my arms. She fucking tied me to a chair. "Jinx, untie me right fucking now!" I shouted. I couldn't see her, but I knew she was here somewhere.

I heard a thump on the ground behind me. "Now, what fun would that be?" Her raspy voice filled the room.

I rolled my eyes. "What are you gonna do, then? Torture me?" I spoke with sarcasm which she chuckled at.

"Maybe." She whispered right next to my ear. Her warm breath hit my skin invitingly, and I silently cursed at myself.

There's a chance my attraction for her never left. It possibly even amplified as we grew up, and hell has she grown up.

"Then hurry up," I huffed. "I have shit to do."

She finally moved in front of me where I could actually see her. I forced my eyes to stay on her blue ones rather than drifting down to her incredibly defined abdomen.

"Is that any way to speak to an old friend?" She looked hurt. Her eyelids fell in disappointment as her gaze moved to the floor. She looked despicably innocent.

"Cut the act, Jinx. What do you want?" I seethed. Her frown rose into a coy grin at my tone. "Your rudeness is always so refreshing." She sighed. "I miss it sometimes."

I rolled my eyes. "You ever miss me?" She asked and moved over to her table, her hands toying with her gun.

"I'll answer your question when you answer mine." My fingers toyed with the thick rope that kept my wrists bound. I started using my sharp fingernails to dig into the material.

She turned to face me once more. "Silco wants me to make an example of a firelight, so you guys will learn to back off." She told me unenthusiastically as she leaned back onto her desk.

I quirked a brow, suddenly interested. "So you're gonna kill me?" I laughed.

Her lips moved to a smirk. "Something tells me you wouldn't really mind that."

It's true. Ever since we were kids I had always been the carefree, reckless one. I was never scared of death, and everyone knew that.

"As long as you make the process worthwhile, I think I'd be fine with this arrangement." I shrugged.

She snickered quietly. "I'm not gonna kill you, y/n. But I do have to make an example of you." She began to saunter over to me, her hips swaying.

I swallowed thickly and I think she caught my wandering eyes. "I'm going to have to teach you a lesson, huh?" She murmured to me with a hand on my shoulder.

My eyes darted from her eyes to her dark lips with skepticism. Her mischievous voice could never be trusted, no matter how alluring it was.

"I think I'd rather have you kill me," I admitted as her hands started to get curious. My heartbeat sped up once one of her hands found its way underneath my black tank-top.

Her lips grew dangerously close to mine. I could smell her aroma clear as day. Gunpowder and candy. It may not be candy, but I just knew it was something disgustingly sweet.

Her azure eyes fell to my lips and tension filled the room. Years of pent up feelings for one another now felt amplified, and I couldn't contain the heat and desire that now grew in my stomach.

Her lips met mine in a heated kiss. It was sloppy, rushed, and desperate. Our teeth clashed against each other as her hands left searing trails across my skin. I heard a switch of a blade and my eyes widened as she cut my shirt open.

"What the fuck, Jinx?" I demanded angrily as she ripped the rest of my shirt open.

"How else am I supposed to see your tits without untying you, silly?" She started kissing my neck and I sighed into her touch. Her lips made my mind grow hazy, any anger having now left.

She nipped at my skin and I bit back a moan. Her hands left no skin untouched. Her long nails teasingly drug across my skin as she unclasped my bra, followed by her yanking my shorts off.

Her lips left my skin once she pulled back to inspect my near-nude form. My breath was shallow while hers came out in needy pants. Her eyes inspected every inch of me, lust filling her gaze.

"Took us way too long to do this." She murmured before moving her tongue across my hardened nipple.

"Shit." I quietly moaned as my head fell back against the chair. Her nimble fingers came up to the other one giving it just as much attention.

The heat grew in my lower stomach as my need for her grew stronger. Gods, she was hot.

Her lips lowered down my stomach until she reached the hem of my underwear.

"I used to dream about this." She huffed before cutting through the fabric with her knife.

I furrowed my brows. "You dreamed about screwing me?" The thought trailed off once her soft lips peppered kisses along my thighs.

She murmured an "mhm" into my skin. Her nails dug into my thighs deliciously and a shiver passed through me.

"Me too," I admitted. She paused and looked up at me. "I used to dream about screwing you." I clarified and narrowed my eyes at her.

A chuckle passed through her lips as she pulled her pistol from its holster.

"Still gotta teach you that lesson, huh toots?" Her voice only continued to turn me on. "You gonna shoot me?" I laughed.

"Better." She murmured with an evil grin. Her lips smashed into mine in another heated kiss. Her tongue forced its way passed my lips and I enjoyed the feeling of her exploring my mouth.

One of her hands pushed my thighs apart and I released a gasp at the feeling of cold metal hitting my skin.

I inhaled sharply through my nose once the hilt of the gun met my entrance.

Her lips sucked marks along my jaw as a distraction, but the feeling of her gun pushing into me couldn't be ignored. A mix of a hiss and moan left my lips and Jinx chuckled.

She licked a line from my jaw to my collarbone and my mind became fuzzy at the feeling. Her eyes drifted down to watch her gun piston in and out of me. A quiet groan left her throat at the sight and I clenched at the sound.

I wanted her so badly. Her lips fell to my breasts, her hand falling to my clit and she circled it agonizingly.

Her pace with the gun quickened and she shoved it as far in as she could. A pained whimper fell from my mouth and her eyes stared into mine. "Poor, y/n." She tantalized.

Her fingers moved over my clit and the bliss numbed my mind. Where did she learn to fuck like this?

As if she could sense my approaching orgasm, she moved her gun to hit the perfect spot. Wracked moans filled the room as she shamelessly ruined me. "That's it," She cooed. "Make a mess on my gun." Her voice was commanding, and If I were standing it would have made my knees collapse.

Her hand gripped my jaw and she angled me down to face her. She watched every expression that passed my face with wide eyes and excitement.

She bit her lip once I shut my eyes, another moan escaping. My orgasm barreled into me like nothing I'd ever felt before as I came hard around her weapon.

She whimpered at the sight. I inhaled steadily, trying to regain my composure.

She pulled her gun from my cunt and studied the damage. A clear substance coated the hilt and my face grew heated.

Her lips rose in satisfaction, then she tossed it to the side. My eyes widened as she shoved my thighs apart once more.

Her tongue moved across my entrance, collecting cum. Her eyes were hooded and I knew she was just as turned on as me.

I winced at overstimulation as her tongue came higher. I was still sensitive. "Jinx, I don't-" my words were cut off when her lips attached to my clit.

She drew a whine out of me as she sucked hard. I attempted to shut my legs out of instinct, but she was quick to stop me. Her nails bit into my thighs as she held them apart.

Her tongue did quick and effective work, and soon I felt the all-too-familiar tightening of my stomach grow.

My breathing was quick as she furiously moved her tongue across my clit.

My hands dug into her blue locks, my second orgasm coming quicker than I anticipated.

Her mouth left my cunt causing a string of saliva and other bodily fluids to stick to my skin from her lips.

My chest fell heavily and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "How the hell did you get out of the ropes?" She asked me in astonishment.

I smirked and shrugged, still out of breath. "You seem to forget I was the one to teach you how to tie a knot."

#jinx imagine #arcane imagines #jinx smut #jinx x reader #arcane smut #jinx arcane #arcane #jinx league of legends #vi and jinx #lesbianromance #lesbianfiction #lesbian #fantasy #gun play

[elliesbiatch]

2. Trapped

Ellie x fem reader

Warnings: nsfw, 18+, mdni, angst, kinky, face riding, knife play?, rope, pet names, fingering, sadism/masochism, spanking, a lil blood, degrading names etc. lmk if I forgot any xx

Notes: proofread slightly, I’m horny,also thanks for all the likes/reads/ follows ! It means sooo much ilyyyy x word count: 2.2k

Reblogs/likes/follows are appreciated xo

My legs felt like they were gonna collapse as I ran behind a tree to try catch my breath. I’ve been running for more than 15 minutes to try and get away from a girl that’s trying to kill me. I was was only walking through a small town trying to get supplies for my group when she appeared from out of nowhere with a bow and arrow ready to shoot me.

I hear foot steps getting closer as I try hold my breath, so I’m not too loud. Fuck- this is it- I’m gonna be killed for no reason. Her footsteps get closer and I quickly try think of what to do next. Why the fuck was she trying to kill me anyways ? I didn’t even do anything wrong. My fight or flight kicks in as a twig snaps behind me and I run as fast as I can into a nearby building. I start running up the stairs as an arrow flies right past me, missing my shoulder by an inch.

“Stop fucking running, I’m gonna catch you anyways” I hear a voice scream from behind. She’s fucking relentless. I turn around to check if she’s not there, before running into a room. I hide behind a desk holding my chest as I feel it rise up and down quickly. Maybe I lost her? I can’t hear her anymore. I look around the desk slightly and nearly jump out of my skin when I see the door creak open. Fuck. She fucking found me. I hold onto my knife tightly- ready to kill her if I have to.

I hear her creep in- soft footsteps on the concrete floor. I hear a low giggle that makes my blood run cold. “I know you’re in here, might as-well be a good girl and just come out already”. I shiver at her words. She’s sick- she’s enjoying this. A few seconds go by and my heart continues to nearly break out of my chest. I turn to look around the desk again to see where she is- but she’s not there. Where the fuck did she go?

“Found you” a low voice says as I realise I’m fucked. I turn quickly to see an auburn haired girl with green eyes. She didn’t match what I had pictured this whole time. Her cheeks all freckled and lips plump. Just beautiful. How could someone so beautiful be horrible enough to want me dead for no reason. “Get the fuck up before I make you” she snaps as I look at her in fear. I was in shock- pure panic- I couldn’t make myself move.

Before I can even try move, she grabs my wrist and yanks me up. She’s strong what the fuck. I wince in pain at her grip as she pulls me to the other side of the room. “I fucking told you to get up and you didn’t listen- you’re fucked” she growls, pushing me back onto a black leather chair. She grabs the knife from my hand and places it on the floor beside her bag. She quickly gets something out of the bag. “Put your hands behind your back” she insists- eyebrows raised- with a rope in hand. “No” I croak out, immediately regretting it. “Oh yeah ?” She says kneeling down to me in the chair. “If I were you- I’d listen” she says as my cheek starts to sting. She fucking slapped me.

I quickly bring my hand up to rub my sore cheek but she snatches it and puts my hands around my back and starts to tie them with the rope. I’m fucked now. “Ouch that’s too tight” I squeal as the rope digs into my wrists. I try to stand up but she pushes me back down. “Move once more and I’m gonna have to fuck you up” she huffs, making me shiver. “Look- if you’re gonna kill me- just do it already” I scream at her- tears welling in my eyes. “Oh sweet girl- don’t cry” she says in a fake-caring voice and rubs her hand over my cheek to wipe the tear. “I’m not gonna kill you” she says with her eyes full of lust. “I’m just gonna fuck you “ she growls landing another slap on my salty, wet cheek.

“W-what” I whisper as she starts to take her jacket off. “You heard me- I’m gonna fuck you- until you can’t walk” she growls. “What the fuck- let me go” I scream trying to get my hands out of the restraint. “Don’t make me gag you- so you can’t use your worthless mouth anymore” she says, continuing to take her clothes off. She’s left in only a sports bra and some boy shorts.

“Your turn slut” she snaps as she pulls my trousers down, leaving me in my tank top and thong. “Mmmm fuck” she says under breath, leaning down to my jaw, her hands resting on my bare thighs. She begins nipping at my jaw making me gasp. She then places soft kisses where she just nipped. A shot of pleasure shoots down to my clit, which surprises me…. What’s happening. Her arms are toned and freckled - just like her cheeks.

She brings her lips down to my neck and begins to suck on it vigorously, leaving purple marks. “Ugh fuck” i moan. She stops and looks up to me. Her eyes are glassy with her want for me. “You’re a dirty little bitch- you’re enjoying this” she snarls looking down at my thighs that are pushed together to stop the ache. What was wrong with me. She puts her hands down to my thighs and snatches them aggressively open. “Keep your legs open so I can see your needy cunt” she growls, causing my clit to pulse.

“You’re sick” I whisper. She smirks before grabbing my thin tank top into her fists and rips it off of me. “Ow that fucking hurt” I scream as she pinches my nipples. My back arches slightly as I feel the pain and pleasure she’s giving me right now. “Look at these perky fucking tits” she says leaning in and nipping at one of them. It fucking stings. She sees my expression and goes in to bite it again, only this time a little too hard. I scream as I look down and see a tiny bit of blood. “Fuck don’t do that - there’s blood” I pant. She lets out a low giggle.

She stands up and goes over near her bag and picks up my knife. Fuck. “You look scared” she mocks, walking up to me and touching my collarbone with the sharp object making me squirm. “Please don-“ I begin. But she shuts me up by slightly piercing my skin with the blade. “Don’t speak” she growls as I feel a salty tear run down my cheek. She begins trailing the knife down my bare abdomen, glancing up to look at my face every couple of seconds.

She makes it all the way down to my panties and bites her lip as she uses the knife to cut them off. I was completely on show now. She begins to let out a low laugh as she drops the knife down by the chairs leg. “you’re cunt is all wet and messy already”. I feel so humiliated- I couldn’t really help but get wet- there was something about her that was so attractive. “I knew you were a stupid whore” she snaps before slapping my inner thigh, making me gasp.

“You fucking like it don’t you” she grins leaning down to my core. She gives my thigh another slap and watches as I buck my hips up as the sting turns to pleasure. “You’re dripping for me- stupid bitch” she says. Fuck I need her. I start to close my legs as the frustration grows between my thighs. “Keep them open - keep your sloppy cunt on show for me” she says as I Bite my lip, nearly drawing blood.

She leans down and starts to kitten lick my clit. I roll my head back in pleasure as she lightly licks me. Too light. I push hips closer to her face trying to have more if her. “Mmmm..so needy” she mumbles as she dives her tongue into my hole. “OH FUCK” I scream as her tongue slips in and out of me. Her eyes locked with mine as she snakes her toned arm up to grasp my throat. “You want me to choke you while I eat your Pussy?” She grunts as I rock my pussy closer and closer to her.

She squeezes hard around my throat as her lips wrap around my swollen clit. She sucks hard and before I know it my legs start to quiver. Im gonna cum. “You’re such a little slut- you want to cum all over my tongue don’t you” she murmurs into my pussy. Her hot breathe sends shivers up my spine as I get close to my orgasm. Just as I’m about to cum she harshly nips my throbbing clit. “Owww what the fuck” I cry as I feel my clit pulse from both pain and the lost orgasm.

“Not yet” she growls, grabbing me by the hips and picking me up. She brings me to the desk I was using to hide from her earlier. Fuck- things have changed. “Can you untie me” I groan as I feel the ropes irritate my skin. “Why? So you can leave?” She asks with a flash of sadness in her eyes. “No” I gulped. “I wouldn’t leave, I just wanna touch you” I shyly say. She’s quiet for a second, thinking. “Even if I did try run, I’m sure you’d just catch me again” I say biting my lip. “Fine” she growls, releasing my hands. “Fuck” I say looking at my bruised, red wrists. That’s gonna leave a mark. “Mmmm good- now you won’t forget this” she smirks and brings her fingers down to my cunt.

A fistful of my hair in her hand. Without warning she slams two fingers into me and I scream, letting my nails dig into her back. “Oh you feel so good” she groans, fucking me. Her eyes don’t leave my pussy as she watches her fingers get even sloppier as they come in and out of me. She was grabbing my hair tighter every once and awhile and I winced at the feeling but she loved it. I need more- I need to cum before I fucking explode. I thrust my hips harder into her as I feel her fingers hit my cervix. “Oh shit- “ she starts, watching as I try my hardest to use her fingers to get to my high.

“You’re fucking desperate aren’t you” she states biting her lip and looking at me through lidded eyes. She slams another finger into me. “F-fuck I-“‘I moaned, trying my hardest to get a sentence out. It was no use though. “Tell me” she growls. “I- I w-wanna c-um” I yelp. I continue to moan as I nearly reach my high again. She mocks my moans making me feel embarrassed. I couldn’t help my girlish moans though- she was fucking me too good. “You’re fucking pathetic” she groans as I scream, Cumming all over her hand.

She unexpectedly lets go of my head and I slam back onto the cold desk. “Ow” I say, leaning up and rubbing the back of my head. She’s standing in front of me, eyes still filled with lust. Fuck- she couldn’t want to do more to me right? I can’t take it. I look down at her boy shirts to see a wet spot. “Lie down” she instructs and I do as she asks. “Good girl- you’re learning to obey” she coos. She drops her underwear to the ground and climbs up, straddling my abdomen. “Now- you’re gonna be a good little slut and clean me up” she growls.

Before I could say anything she scoots up and slams her wet cunt down on my face, riding it, wasting no time. I begin to lap up her sweet juices as her nose scrunches up with pleasure. “Yeah- just like that whore” she grunts as I harshly suck her clit in my wet mouth. She brings one hand up to her small tits and massages them through her bra, and lets the other hand fall to my forehead, letting it rest there as she keeps riding. “You wanna fucking make me cum you dirty bitch” she mutters. I hum into her pussy as her legs begin to shake. She screams in pleasure as I taste her sweet juices run down my throat.

Once she used me, She gets up and leaves me on the desk. What the actual fuck just happened. I lay there as I hear her shuffle around. I’m too scared to get up or even look around, in fear she’ll end me. I felt pathetic just laying here after she fucking ruined me. “Don’t let me see you around here anymore” she says, breaking the silence and I turn my head to see her. “Or I’ll have to fuck you up again” she says with a smirk. “That sounds more like an invitation” I croak back. She hums and leaves the room. Leaving me to clean myself up.

Also comment if you want me to do a part 2 of this ;))

#ellie tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie williams #lesbian smut #ellie williams x reader

[fratboykate]

I say this with love...hotshot judge/lawyer and dumbass criminal AU *big eyed pleading cat cartoon gif that I can't insert but you know the one*. I loved the idea of that one. Don't tell me it died on the vine. (I will understand, you have SO MANY! You're a one-woman AU generator to put AO3 to shame!)

---

I’m curious about the public defender au. How did they meet? What was their first impression?

---

I propose a rule that you stop mentioning amazing AUs if you're not going to even feed us crumbs about them. Love frat boy, mom, celeb, etc but you got me hooked on Public Defender!Kate and Mafia!Yelena and ahve never mentioned it again.

///

Don't ever tell me I don't give the people what they want. Here's 1.5k of the billionth Kate/Yelena AU I've been bamboozled into starting. Officially introducing...PDAU.

---

Yelena sits in the cold courthouse holding cell, surrounded by bare walls painted in a lifeless grey. There's no place to lie down and no comfortable spot to rest, just a desk and a few chairs bolted to the ground. A small window, high up near the ceiling, lets in a sliver of daylight. The fluorescents flicker overhead, casting an unflattering glow on Yelena's face and highlighting the bags under her eyes. The orange jumpsuit she's now wearing for the first time in her life only heightens the bleak atmosphere. The stench of stale sweat and urine assaults her nostrils while she shifts on the hard metal seat, trying to find an enjoyable position. The edges of the chair dig into her skin and the clinking of her ankle cuffs each time she fidgets has started to grate on her nerves.

"Сука.” [Bitch.]

Yelena glares at the cuffs trapping her hands and mutters a string of curses in Russian under her breath.

The sound of the creaking door unlocking interrupts Yelena’s outburst. An impeccably dressed young woman strides in and her frazzled appearance hints at the weight of her responsibilities. Her crisp suit accentuates her professional demeanor, and her hair is pulled into a neat bun. The pounding of her distinctly expensive high heels against the concrete floor echoes through the room. The woman sits down across from Yelena, carrying a bulky file in her hands. The blonde leans back, a sardonic smirk playing on her lips as she sizes the brunette up.

“Good morning, Miss Belova. My name is Katherine Bishop and I’m the court-appointed public defender assigned to your case. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Kate opens the file and begins flipping through the pages. Her eyes widen in disbelief as she reads through Yelena’s rap sheet.

“You’re a real one-woman crime wave…Assault in the Third Degree, Grand Larceny in the Second Degree, Resisting Arrest, Disorderly Conduct in the Second Degree, Petty Larceny, Criminal Possession of a Weapon in the Third Degree, Criminal Possession of Stolen Property in the Third Degree, Criminal Mischief in the Second Degree, Grand Larceny in the Third Degree, Assault in the Fourth Degree, Criminal Mischief in the Third Degree, Criminal Possession of a Controlled Substance in the Third Degree, Grand Theft, Criminal Sale of a Controlled Substance in the Third Degree, Criminal Trespass in the Third Degree, Unauthorized Use of a Vehicle in the Third Degree, Burglary in the Third Degree, Criminal Trespass in the Second Degree…” Kate stops herself from reading through the entire record and looks up at Yelena. “…Impressive list. How do you have time for anything else?” Kate asks, shocked.

“You left out jaywalking and littering. Those are important.”

“I just don't have all day to read through this.” Kate looks up from the file, exasperated.

“Only doing my part to keep the economy going.” Yelena replies with a sly grin.

“If you’re trying to single-handedly prop up the criminal justice system, you’re doing a bang-up job.”

“I like to be the best at anything I do.”

“And what is it you do exactly.”

“Little bit of everything. I work in the family business.”

“What’s the family business?”

“We own a restaurant. The Red Guardian. You heard of it? Best shashlik in the city.”

“What do you do at the restaurant?”

Yelena leans away in her chair, feeling cocky.

“Let’s just say I’m not the one who makes the pirozhki.”

“Got it. So, you've been in and out of the system for years, but you've always managed to stay out of prison. How?”

“Luck, charm, and a few friends.” Yelena utters nonchalantly.

“Or good lawyers. What do you think happens when your ‘luck’ runs out?”

Yelena shrugs.

“Then I finally get to experience the joys of prison life. What could be better than three hots and a cot?”

The air between them is thick. Both women are locked in a silent battle of wills, neither giving an inch as they stare each other down. Kate can sense Yelena's gaze burning into her, but she refuses to let the older woman intimidate her. Yet, as she looks at the file in front of her, she can't help but wonder if maybe she's in over her head. On the other hand, Yelena feels a sense of satisfaction that the power dynamic has shifted in the room. She's used to being the one in control, but she can feel the palpable resistance coming from Kate. After a beat, Kate finally breaks the eye contact, opting to focus on the file in front of her instead.

“Seems your lucky streak continues, Miss Belova. I’m here to keep you from learning about ‘the joys of prison life’ for a little longer. I’ll make sure you can carry on being quite the model citizen.”

Yelena chuckles dryly.

“I do what I can to stay out of trouble.”

“Is that so?” Kate answers, skepticism lacing her tone. Kate flips to the last page of the file. “You’ve been arrested seventeen times in the last two years.”

Yelena leans forward and stares directly at Kate.

“How old are you? Twenty-two? What’d they give me, the intern?”

“Not that you need to know, but I’m twenty-five and graduated summa cum laude and with Order Of The Coif honors from Cornell.”

“When? Yesterday?”

“Miss Belova, I’m what you have. Even with this record, you’ve somehow managed to stay out of jail and I intend to keep it that way. Tell me what happened so I can help you.”

“It’s not what you think. I didn't do what they're accusing me of. I'm being set up.”

Yelena doesn’t add anything further. Kate leans forward, her eyes fixed on Yelena.

“And I supposed all these other charges are nothing but a misunderstanding too?”

“Some of them, yeah.” Yelena retorts defensively.

They’re at an impasse. Both continue sizing the other up, trying to figure out the next move. Kate breaks first, trying to reason with her.

“I'm here to help you, but I need to know what I'm dealing with because you’re facing some serious charges.”

“I was just there trying to retrieve some stolen property.”

Kate looks at her skeptically.

“What kind of property would that be?”

“The kind that belongs to my family.”

“I see. And how’d that go?”

“Well, I’m here, with you, in these…” Yelena lifts the handcuffs. “…so not great.”

“If…and that’s a long shot with this record…but if I get the judge to agree to bail, can you cover it?”

“They let the rookies talk to judges now?”

Kate clenches her jaw. Yelena might be pushing buttons too far now.

“I’m one of the best court-appointed lawyers in the city.”

“Yeah?” Yelena asks, raising an eyebrow, clearly doubtful.

“I know my way in a courtroom and can talk circles around most prosecutors.”

“I’m sure you can.”

“Does this normally work for you? Does being an ass to your attorneys get you far?”

“They’ve never given me one of the greenhorns before.”

“I've secured acquittals for more than half of my clients this year and negotiated plea deals for the others that resulted in reduced sentences. If you stop being antagonistic, I can help you too.”

Yelena is intrigued now.

“You think you can beat this? Not scared of taking it on?”

“I’m a public defender. I don’t scare easily.”

Yelena pauses for a beat, studying Kate. After a long moment, she nods.

“Alright, counselor…” Yelena tells her with a hint of a derogatory undertone. “…Tell me what to do.”

“Call your family. Tell them you’re going to need money. I’ll get you out on bail. Then we can start working on your defense.” Kate instructs firmly prior to standing and starting to head for the door. “But Yelena…” Yelena looks up at her. “If you’re lying to me, you’ll be back here before you know it. Got it?”

“Loud and clear.”

Kate exits the cell, the booming of her stilettos reverberating through the empty corridor as she shuts the door behind her with a resounding clang. She takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the tension that has built up inside her since she walked in. As Kate turns to walk away, she can't help but steal a glance at Yelena, who still sits with her fingers linked atop the metal table. Kate can see the anger and frustration written plainly across Yelena's face, but she also detects a hint of something else. Perhaps it's a tinge of fear or maybe even a grudging respect. Whatever it is, Kate has a feeling this encounter has left an indelible mark on her, perhaps even both of them.

#bishova #kate x yelena #yelena x kate #kate bishop #yelena belova #remember that video I posted last night??? THAT is the vibe here #I was thinking about pdau and that moment came up #kypdau #kypdaup #anonymous #answers

[hitsuzenhusbands]

ohhh i havent posted properly in forever. heres a ~2k fic as an apology

aod has rlly grabbed me by the throat for the past few days, so. that resulted in. this!

yknow when ray is on eddie’s floor and she finds all of the victims files and one is a woman who was hanged on dannys floor. do you think about that because i think about that.

tw/cw for death, blood, gore, hanging, etc. etc. etc. pretty canon typical.

-

The grating shudders as she falls back against it, a sharp inhale of surprise and pain filling her lungs with shards of air. She groans, digging her hand into her opposite arm, grinding her teeth in a desperate attempt to ignore the pain reverberating through her arteries and the thick, wet blood gushing through her fingers. The scythe, she imagines, had made quite the gash, but how deep she wasn’t sure. She can’t bear to look at it—to face what might be nothing but ragged flesh dripping from the bone of her forearm, held only in place by her other hand. Bile bubbles in the back of her throat at the thought of having to peel her dismembered limb off the grimy floor of this rickety elevator, but she swallows it down. 

She doesn’t care where it leads to at this point, as long as it’s away from that thing.

She almost couldn’t tell what it was at first—all she could see was a flash of black, white, and red before enough light filtered through the cracks of the rundown buildings to catch the metal of its weapon. By then, it was too late. She was too busy running and tending to her cut arm to picture a face to match the ear splitting laugh that followed her all the way to the elevator.

An exit awaits her, she hopes. She sees, through a blur composed of tears and agony, a wide, open door with a promise of freedom. Dirty concrete replaced by lush green grass, buzzing lights giving way to blue sky—

A man at a desk, glasses crooked on his nose as he peers intently at the computer in front of him. 

The blood loss must be getting to her.

Nevertheless, she steps forward, linoleum tiles immediately clicking beneath her. The man, still, seems unbothered, mindlessly tapping his mouse as she approaches his desk. Eyes straining beneath the dim lights, she figures she’s in something akin to a doctor’s office, but no matter how harshly her heart pounds against her ribcage in a plea to get out of here and her distrust rises with the hair along the back of her neck, she’ll take what she can get—even if that only amounts to a frightening lobby and a man too engrossed in Solitaire to acknowledge her.

“Excuse me?” Her voice is hoarse, words catching in her throat and tearing at her larynx. 

It’s only now that he sees her, eyes darting quickly between her and the screen before he hastily switches to another tab—a chart, maybe, or a form. The brightness of it compared to the rest of the room is making it difficult to tell. “My apologies! How can I help you?” He says, proper and practiced. Perfect customer service, as though he’s done it a thousand times over. As if to prove this point, he begins typing halfway through his sentence, keyboard clacking incessantly, the sound ricocheting against her skull.

“I…Need to see a doctor.”

“For what, may I—?” He’s turned to look at her, finally. Pressed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the tip of his finger and swiveled in his chair, only to catch sight of her wound. How he didn’t hear her blood dripping steadily against his bleach-scented floor, she doesn’t know. “Oh. Oh dear.” Concern only crosses his expression for a moment before he’s offering her a warm smile and standing from his chair. Without a second of delay, he guides her past the desk and down a hallway, hand gently placed on her unharmed shoulder until he gets her into something of an operating room and convinces her with a soft gesture of his hands to sit on the center table.

She does so, as if she had any other choice, and watches intently as he rifles through his drawers. Lightheaded as she is, she still catches sight of the jars lined up across the countertops, contents she can’t quite identify bobbing within them.

“Here we are.” He’s back, with his sterile smile and gleaming eyes. He sets his supplies on the table before he gets to work. She looks away when he wipes the wound clean, willing herself not to vomit. “So, what’s the story?”

God, if only she knew.

“I…A man, I think, chased me.”

He hums knowingly. The sound is just enough to draw her attention away from the stinging of the needle piercing her skin. She feels his fingers delicately wave her back together, pressing her flesh back into place. “Must have been a serial killer.”

The way he says it—so simply. Yes, of course, it must have been.

The string snaps cleanly. He wraps her with bandages so that she can stand to look at it without heaving, which she does as soon as he steps back, carefully flexing her arm and testing her limits. It’s stiff, naturally, and spikes of pain still flood her nerves, but at the very least the man before her isn’t trying to kill her this time.

“Would you mind if I performed a proper check-up?” He asks once he’s done. “Just to make sure you’re all set.”

She hesitates, drawing her arm into herself and resting it on her legs. There is something about him, something she can’t place. The way he holds himself stark upright, hands neatly folded in front of him, nothing short of a smile across his face. He tilts his head ever-so slightly when he speaks, his sentences carefully chosen and never anything but comforting.

It’s almost disarming. “I really should be going—”

“Please, I insist!” He raises his hands slightly. “I would hate to find out a patient of mine walked out of my office possibly injured.”

He could be right. In truth, the only thing she can feel is the pulsing of her arm—who knows how many bruises and cuts sprawl across the rest of her,  bleeding and infected. “Alright.”

The delight he finds in this is unreserved, as he clasps his hands together and carefully begins his examination. It’s nothing out of the ordinary—he looks into her ears, puts a stick on her tongue—and as expected, she’s perfectly fine.

“I didn’t happen to introduce myself, did I?” He announces suddenly, hammer hovering over her knee. She shakes her head. “Must have gotten lost in the whole arm-almost-got-cut-off business.” He chuckles to himself at his own joke. The hammer lightly knocks against her leg. This is extremely unnecessary, she finds, but a moment wasted resting in safety is better than a moment wasted with a murderer on your trail. “I’m Dr. Danny.” 

She goes to tell him hers, only to stop the moment he rises to his feet and places the hammer on the table with a sharp metal click. He leans forward towards her, lightly dragging her hair away from her face before he jabs his fingers into her cheek and forehead and pulls her eyelids apart. “Hey—”

“I wanted to be an ophthalmologist, you know.”  Her attempts to pull away are futile, stalled by the iron grip he has on her head. Still, she pulls—nearly knocking her skull against the slab when he lets go and gives her the opportunity to scramble backwards, cursing her injury for the flaring pain that crawls across her skin and buries itself in her veins. “So that I could gaze into as many eyes as I wanted. But that didn’t work out.” He taps under his right eye, a faint smile fluttering across his lips. “Besides, it’s so difficult to find the eyes I’m looking for, anyway.”

“What are you talking about—?”

“But you—” He continues, like he didn’t hear her. He’s taken a stance at the edge of the table now, hands pressed into the corners while he stares directly at her. “They’d be perfect, if only…”

She has to get out of here. It doesn’t matter anymore, how much kindness he has shown her, how many stitches are in her arm, how many will snap—she’s got a will to live, goddammit, and whatever is wrong with this man won’t stop her. She pulls her legs up onto the table in a burst of adrenaline and kicks back until she can slide off of it. He startles, apparently confused by her sudden fighting spirit, but she doesn’t let that stop her from bolting towards the door, dashing just past him, wrapping her fingers around the frame, and—

-

Daniel Dickens is a scientist at heart.

That is to say, he takes great pleasure in experimenting. 

His collection certainly has benefited from it. Not just in his method of preservation (a whole month was spent once, researching formaldehyde exclusively) but in his method of collection. 

He prefers something simple. He goes right for the eyes, mostly, and whatever happens after that is left up to fate—or rather, the person themself, whether they spend their time applying pressure to the wounds or flailing aimlessly around his room, destroying as much of it as they can before collapsing.

Stabbing is effective. Messy, though. Then again, not as messy as immediate eye removal, but he’s never been one for dish washing, and visible knives tend to disturb his patients before he can begin the procedure.

Guns, chainsaws, scythes—he can’t stand the thought. To think he might miss and hit his trophies makes him sick.

But this.

This is worth experimenting with.

The newest sacrifice isn’t exactly any more interesting than the rest. Her eyes are blue, yes, but dull. They reek of stagnation, contentedness with a normal life, of days and nights that repeat over and over so much so that this sudden change in routine has only awoken in her a desire to go back. Still, he admires that flare—that flicker of a survivor's instinct that burns deep within her and sends ripples into her otherwise unbecoming eyes.

And he thinks, perhaps, with this, he can make them exactly how he wants them.

She runs from him, as most tend to do, but she barely gets a foot out of the door. He grabs the rope tucked into his lab coat and pulls it tight around her neck, dragging her back into the operating room enough so he can push her against the floor, fraying threads cutting deep lines into her throat already. She’s drowned out by the force, instead mindlessly grabbing at him.

But this isn’t it. This isn’t how she will die—with eyes that barely spark at the prospect of escape.

He releases it enough for her to gasp, a wheeze that pierces her lungs and stuns her long enough for him to tie the noose. As a precaution, he shuts the door before he hangs it just above a desk chair tucked against the side of the room, his own breath catching in his throat at the prospect of what he’s about to do.

She struggles beneath him as he picks her up, half-dragging her kicking and screaming until he can pull her onto the chair and situate her head within the neck hole. “My mother,” He says somberly, tightening it in spite of her cries. “She did this to herself. I only wonder…If the despair she felt may be shared by you.”

Her neck doesn’t snap. Instead, she claws helplessly at the knot, kicking and gurgling. 

Her eyes don’t change.

Once she goes limp, they’re just as they were—dull. Ordinary. Unremarkable.

Hypothesis disproved, he sighs to himself before delving his fingers into her sockets and removing his prize, some sort of nostalgia stirring within him.

#angels of death #aod #danny dickens #daniel dickens #fic #fic posting #yaay agony! #this is rough and i wrote it quickly but i mean ive really been having brainworms man #i coooould post this on ao3 but ahh ehhh ehhh #im lazy #satsuriku no tenshi

[avocado-frog]

hey! this is chance & here’s the prompt for week 6. what are your oc's bedrooms like? messy? neat? carefully designed? or a collection of their favorite things? you can verbally describe or use photos, whatever you think is best.

Hii this came a little earlier than i expected. chance jumpscare

(cw for implied alcohol at around leo's part)

Logan- He isn't big on decorations, and he's a little too busy to make his room look nice, but he tries. He has a desk and a swivel chair, and a PC. He keeps pens and paper and other assorted items- gifts from the others, little photographs, etc etc- on the desk as well. He also never really was comfortable decorating it, since he kinda stole the house from the triplet's dead mom

Leo- Gray sheets, maybe one blanket, but an atrocious amount of pillows. She has a collection of VHS tapes, a radio, and a bookshelf full of dozen of little dumb trinkets. Tarot cards, board games, books, matchboxes, yeah. She has stuffed animals hidden somewhere. Five unfinished puzzles on the floor

-Dahlia Leo- She wasn't expecting Ryan to go with her after her fight with Jaxon, so she didn't bring enough stuff for the both of them. Because of that, and being a lil guilty for kinda kidnapping her brother, she let Ryan have the air mattress, as well as her blanket. She sleeps in the room across from Ryan in the school, the second-grade science classroom. She sleeps on a pile of clothes, using her backpack as a pillow. She never bothered to buy anything new for herself or Ryan, while they were missing. A lot of empty cans of. ""soda"". She stole a baseball bat from a dumpster nearby, which ends up coming in handy when Dylan and Ryan and Elliot possess everyone

-Rosemary Leo- White floor, white ceiling, white walls. The door is metal, and doesn't have a knob to open. The windows are opaque, and can't be broken. The bed has a metal frame, with white sheets and a foam, rectangular pillow. There's a white bookshelf, with only a few books, and a stack of papers and crayons. On the opposite side of the bed, there's a TV and remote, it only has a few channels and it doesn't work very well. There's a circular table in the corner with one chair. Leo still hasn't finished her puzzles

Cass- Fairy lights are strung up on the walls, wrapped around those fake vines. Light green bedsheets, matching curtains. Plants line the windowsill. She has a bowl of candy beside her nightstand with her lamp and hand sanitizer. Very cozy :)

Kai- He keeps his room very neat. Painted dark red, he's got a beige carpet. One wall is just a big bookshelf. He has a canopy bed and a chandelier and a bed for his cat Muffin

Lily- Painted pink. She has a white, shag carpet on the floor, and those sequin decoration pillows that kinda hurt to sleep on. A lot of little plants. Fairy lights hang from the ceiling. She has a lot of family photos on her desk. She's got a vanity table. A lil messy

Jaxon + Dylan- Very messy on account of Jaxon never cleaning and Dylan firmly believing that, at this point, it's a health hazard to touch anything. Life forms are prob growing under their bunk bed. Jaxon has the top bunk, and I'm looking in chapter 7 because I described their room there. His bed looks like it hasn't been made since he was nine years old. He keeps empty chip bags there. Dylan's is much neater, lot of blankets and stuffed frogs. There's two bean bags in front of the television, one green for Dylan, one blue for Jaxon. Eventually, Leo gets a red one. Posters from various cartoons and video games overlap each other. Also, Jaxon has a hamster on their desk

-Rosemary Jaxon- Small. Around the size of a walk-in closet. The floor is just straight up dirt, and the walls are concrete. It's dark, one, dim light in the corner of the room, and a metal bench held up by two chains. There is also a rat named Jeremy

Marcy- Kind of like Leo's, but a bit more purple-themed. She's got an electric guitar hanging up, with some band posters covering the walls. Her room is painted gray

Ryan + Sam- They have a bunk bed. Ryan's is the bottom, with his bed covered up with stuffed animals of various sea creatures. Sam has a little less stuffed animals, but the wall and his ceiling, where he can reach, are covered in stickers. Sam's green army men and Ryan's plastic bugs are scattered on the floor, which is great for them, terrible for anyone who tries to get into their room. Sam has a lot of Hot Wheel sets along the walls, Ryan's got a lot of Legos that are in immediate danger of being broken by his brother

-Dahlia Ryan- The kindergarten room of the small school he and Leo were staying at. The paint was scratched, the lights were broken, but Leo let him have the air mattress she was planning on keeping for herself, as well as her blanket

-Dahlia Sam- Ryan's got him locked out of his room for the first two chapters, so he has the last remaining guest bedroom, and he couldn't really get any of his stuff. He steals Elliot's nightlight. The picture Leo found in forget me not is on his floor. He couldn't stay in Ryan's room after he left, so he kept the guest room. He's got his sports equipment in an orange bag

Elliot- Solar system rug covers his floor, colored lights hang from the ceiling, keeping the room usually purple. His toys are kept up on shelves hammered into his walls. He and Dylan painted styrofoam spheres to look like planets, and the two of them hung up glow star stickers to look like constellations, and they spent a while hanging them up. He's got a telescope by his window, and neon signs In Rosemary, he shares this room with Ryan, Sam, and Dylan, with Dylan's mattress closest to his bed, Ryan's next to theirs, and Sam's next to his

#jaxon got fucking arrested dawg he's in JAIL #let him out he didn't do anything #leo deserved to get pushed off that building. he was totally in the right #like i love leo but she is just awful. the fall knocked some brain cells back in there #i really wanted to describe a hospital room for leo lmao but she technically has a Different one #it wouldve been mean of me to describe the triplet's rooms pre canon tbh #elliot really just likes space which honestly good for him #logan is afraid that someday he'll have to up and find a different abandoned house for the kids to live in so he doesnt wanna get attached #writing #original work #writeblr #wip: forget me not (series tag) #thanks for the ask! #rambles in the tags

[tiny-feral-arachnid-man]

Follow-up of this post!

#alex says something (for once) #poll-arity of a very large magnet #Select Your Own Chooseventure™️ #polls #choose your own ending #choose your own path #choose your own destiny #choose your own adventure

[ankit20222]

Best Interior designing Comany in Patna - Zee Architect

Zee Architect is Best Interior Designing Company in Patna.

Building construction Building construction is one of the first considerations for interior designing. It’s imperative to know how to create a sound foundation in order to achieve a long lasting structure that doesn't have to be renovated. There are several materials that can be used to construct a building. Each material offers its own set of advantages and disadvantages. Wood is considered a low cost option that provides many benefits. However, wood requires maintenance and repair over time. Concrete is a strong and durable choice that comes in various types. It can be installed quickly and easily, but concrete costs money. Metal comes in different forms including steel and aluminum. These types of metal offer good durability and high strength, making them ideal options for building construction. Glass is lightweight and shatterproof, thus serving as a great alternative for windows. Ceramic tiles are hard wearing and fire resistant. They're also water proof, making them perfect for flooring. Brick is versatile and beautiful, and they make excellent foundations for buildings. Stone is durable and beautiful, but it takes a lot of effort to build with stone, especially if done properly.

Flooring Flooring (Best Interior Designing Company in Patna) is the next consideration for interior design. Materials include; carpet, wooden floors, laminate floors, ceramic tile, linoleum, vinyl, parquet, and bamboo floors. Floors are a big aspect of any home, and choosing the wrong type could cause problems down the line. Carpet tends to wear out quickly, but is relatively cheap and easy to install. Laminate and wood floors are popular choices due to their ease of installation and affordability. Both provide soft comfort underfoot. Vinyl and plastic tiles are less expensive than other flooring choices, but they tend to crack after a few years. Ceramic tile is durable and beautiful. Linoleum and parquet are both highly durable. Parquet is not recommended since it's difficult to clean and maintain. Bamboo floors are eco-friendly and natural, but they require additional care.

Furniture Furniture is a huge and often overlooked part of interior decorating. If furniture is chosen poorly, it can ruin the look of a room. When purchasing furniture, consider ergonomics and style. Ergonomic furniture helps prevent back pain and repetitive strain injuries. In addition to being comfortable, furniture should fit the space well. A good rule of thumb is to buy items that are at least two times larger than the area where they've been placed. Style is everything and choosing a style that fits the person and the environment is half the battle. Modern furniture is trending right now. Traditional furniture styles include; Victorian, Regency, Transitional, Arts & Crafts, and Mission. There are so many different pieces of furniture available for purchase. You can get anything from simple benches to multi-functional desks, beds, tables, chairs, stools, cabinets, shelves, etc.

Lighting Lighting is another important aspect to interior design. Different types include; incandescent, fluorescent, halogen, LED (light emitting diode), and CFL (compact florescent light). Incandescent lights work well in dark rooms, but don't produce much light. Fluorescent bulbs last longer and look nicer than traditional lighting, but they need frequent replacement and are pretty loud. Halogens use less electricity and produce bright light, but the light quality isn't as good as other types. CFLs produce less heat and consume less power than other types of lighting. LEDs are a newer technology and produce brighter light without consuming much electricity. They tend to be more expensive though. Some people have reported issues with LED bulbs burning out after a year or two.

Home automation Home automation is becoming increasingly popular. People want to live efficiently and this includes saving energy. Automation makes this possible. Technology is advancing at a rapid pace and home automation solutions are no exception. One of the biggest advancements in home automation is smart thermostats. Thermostats can control heating and cooling remotely while giving homeowners the ability to schedule heating and cooling. Smart light switches allow you to turn lights on and off using your smartphone. They can even give you feedback about how much power you've saved by turning off unused appliances. Motion sensors detect when someone enters a room and turns off lights automatically. Most modern homes already have internet access, which means you can control some appliances remotely through your phone. A smart home can save you thousands of dollars each year due to reduced utility bills.

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Zee Architect is Best Interior Designing Company in Patna.

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[hireskipbinadelaide-blog]

What To Place And What Not In Three Types Of Skip Bins?

Those about to hire skip bins for the first time have some questions. The top question is what to put and what not in these skip bins. We have developed a guide to help people understand clearly what to place and what not to put in different types of skip bins.

DIFFERENT TYPES OF SKIP BINS FOR DIFFERENT WASTE TYPES

When looking to hire a skip bin in Adelaide, one must understand that different types of skip bins are available for different waste types. It is not possible for any company to accept all kinds of waste disposal in one type of skip bins, as in that case segregation will be impossible or very time consuming.

A BREAKDOWN OF DIFFERENT SKIP BIN WASTE TYPES

The skip bin hired by you can be used for different purposes, but you will have to consider the type of skip bin hired by you. Depending on the type, you can decide what to put in that skip bin.

WHAT CAN YOU PUT IN A GENERAL WASTE BIN?

•       Cardboard is a common waste type

•       Household waste

•       Clothes, paper, cardboard, bedding, towels, kitchenware, bathroom accessories, duvets, cushions

•       Light commercial waste

•       Office furniture like desks, desk tidies, chairs, stationery

•       Furniture and appliances

•       Cupboards, lounges, washing machines, cots, beds, fridges, chairs, sofas

•       Wood, flooring, wallpaper

•       Light green waste

•       Shrubs, grass, foliage, leaves, twigs

WHAT CAN BE DUMPED IN THE GREEN WASTE SKIP BIN HIRED BY YOU?

Palm trunks are not allowed, and when you hire skip bins for green waste, remember they are ideal for garden renovations and building projects that involve cutting plants and bringing down trees.

GREEN WASTE SKIP BINS ARE SUITABLE FOR THE FOLLOWING –

•       Light green waste

•       Shrubs, foliage, grass clippings, leaves, twigs

•       Small branches, leaves and palm fronds

•       Woodchip and bark

•       Tree trunks

•       Untreated timber

WHAT CANNOT GO IN A GREEN WASTE BIN?

•       Hard heavy materials

•       Bricks, sand, concrete, tiles, clay, stones

•       Large tree trunks

•       Trunks

•       Palm tree trunks and large tree roots

Hazardous materials like asbestos, insulation, food, wet paint, empty chemical cans and containers, liquid pesticides, etc., should not be placed in these green skip bins hired by you.

WHAT TO PLACE IN CONCRETE OR BRICK SKIP BINS IN ADELAIDE?

The good thing about concrete is that it can be recycled and hence, you will have to hire skip bins in Adelaide differently for concrete and brick garbage. They are ideal for building projects and renovations and here is a list of items that can be placed in them.

WHAT CAN GO IN A CONCRETE/BRICK WASTE BIN?

•       Bricks and bricks and mortar

•       Concrete no bigger than 600×600

•       Roof tiles

•       Floor tiles

•       Pebbles

•       Rocks

•       Stones

WHAT CANNOT GO IN A CONCRETE/BRICK WASTE BIN?

•       General, green or excavation waste

•       Soil or turf

•       Palm trees and fronds

•       Sand, soil and dirt is strictly prohibited

•       Hazardous materials that must not be placed in this bin include:

•       Asbestos, insulation, food, wet paint, empty chemical containers, liquids, or putrescible

#Skip Bins #Skip Bins Adelaide #Skip Bins waste collections #Skip Bin Hire #Skip Bin Hire Adelaide #Hire Skip Bin #Hire Skip Bin Adelaide #Skip Bin Contruction #Skip Bin Waste recycling #Green waste skip Bins #hire skip bins waste

[smartzinc]

Elevating Common Spaces to Attract Renters

First impressions go a long way, and common areas significantly influence how prospective residents perceive a property. From lobbies to fitness centers, upgrading and refreshing shared community spaces helps attract renters in a competitive market. Thoughtful improvements also build pride and satisfaction among existing tenants. Here we’ll explore low-cost renovations and enhancements that maximize your community’s curb appeal and “wow” factor.

Elevator Lobbies and Hallways

Elevators and hallways are high-visibility spaces seen daily. A few strategic touches can brighten up these areas:

- New wall paint or wallpaper – Fresh coats or wallcoverings instantly freshen the space. Opt for neutral or muted tones.

- Artwork additions – Hang eye-catching paintings or photographs to add visual interest. Local artists may donate pieces in exchange for recognition. 

- Decorative lighting – Replace fluorescent tubes with stylish LED fixtures or wall sconces. Accent lighting adds warmth. 

- Furniture improvements – Upgrade worn chairs and console tables with wood, metal or leather pieces that impress.

- Mirror installation – Full-length mirrors visually expand smaller spaces while letting residents check their look on the go.

These quick renovations can modernize lobbies and corridors affordably.

Outdoor Gathering Areas

Outdoor communal spaces offer glimpses into community life. Dress up curb appeal with:

- Landscaping – Well-maintained greenery and seasonal flowers lining walkways enhance aesthetics.

- Hardscaping – Pressure wash paths and add border plants or decorative stones along walkways to define the areas. 

- Patio furniture – Comfortable new furniture encourages use of the space. Select weather-resistant, neutral-toned pieces.  

- Shade elements – Install awning overhangs or umbrellas to allow use during sunny hours.

- Fire pit or water feature – These entice use and serve as focal points for the area.

Visually appealing outdoor spaces encourage social gatherings.

Fitness and Recreation Rooms

Fitness centers and game rooms should feel clean, modern and inviting. Ideas to refresh them include:

- New equipment – Replace any worn or dated equipment like cardio machines, weights, pool tables, etc. Prioritize versatility.  

- Flooring – Change from carpet to polished concrete or rubber flooring that is easy to sanitize. 

- Storage – Add shelving, lockers and cabinets to neatly stow equipment and supplies when not in use.

- Mirror installation – Full mirrors make spaces feel larger while assisting members.

- Desk area – Provide a small computer desk with chair for reviewing workouts or catching up on tasks.

Well-equipped recreation rooms aligned with resident interests attract prospects.

Lobbies and Community Lounges

Lobbies and lounges serve as hubs of community activity. Enhancements to consider:

- Seating – Mix individual soft chairs or loveseats with communal sectionals to accommodate different group sizes. 

- Charging stations – Provide easily accessible power outlets or USB charging ports.

- Desks and workspaces – Add desks, cafe tables, booths and seating arrangements for remote work.

- Refreshments – Offer coffee, tea and filtered water to encourage extended stays.

- Games – Provide new board games, cards, ping pong or pool tables to spur recreation. 

Multi-purpose lounges allow residents to socialize, work or relax.

Additional Considerations

Some final tips for elevating common spaces include:

- Seek resident input on desired amenities and programming needs.

- Stage spaces with decorative items like books, throws, candles to demonstrate usage possibilities.  

- Address accessibility needs through walkway widths, furniture, etc.

- Establish monthly budgets for phasing in enhancements over time.

- Keep color schemes and design cohesive across all common areas.

- Prioritize environmental design like energy-efficient fixtures.

- Clean thoroughly and remove clutter before open houses and tours.

With strategic planning, even modest improvements to shared spaces make an impressive impact on how prospects perceive aesthetic appeal, amenities and sense of community. Your curb appeal and amenities directly influence leasing interest in a competitive rental market. Investing in your common areas is an effective way to attract residents by creating spaces they are proud to call home.

[stalkersquirrel]

We Are Survivors | Chapter 4

Writer: StalkerSquirrel | Co-Writer: Unicornymous

Warning The Overall Story Contains: apocalypse, fighting, weapons, death, murder, horror, dark thoughts, dark moments, fantasy creatures, mutant creatures, Fallout Series Themed, powers, religions, etc.

[Disclaimer: This is fictional, this is NOT their personalities]

Chapter 4: Monat

Uxue looks up when the sound of her office door opens, there in the doorway stood Harun. The doctor frowns, noticing the thin man was being nervous. "Good morning, Harun. The group therapist won't be here until noon today." The doctor states as she looks back down at her paperwork, "I- I- um... I know that, she told me yesterday that she would be late today." Harun's voice was barely above a whisper but the quiet office made it easy to hear him. The scribbling of Uxue's pencil stops before she looks up at Harun's hazel eyes in question, "Are you having bad thoughts again?" Concern dripped off the doctor's words as she sets the pencil down; giving Harun her full attention. "No! No! It's- well-" Harun sighs heavily as he slumps down in left chair in front of Uxue's desk, "Dr. Short said if I feel like it I should talk about Leader Scotti's death but I don't want to talk to Dr. Short about him, about that day."

A soft hum left Uxue as she lends back in her chair, it has been two years since Baxtiyor's death. Everyone refused to talk about it, no one wanted details as much as Uxue did. That day confused her, left her with so many questions but she didn't have the heart to pressure anyone for details and now she might get it but was she ready for it? "If you wish to talk about it, who would you like to talk about it with?" Uxue asks as she stood up to retrieve her walkie talkie, "I wish to speak with you, Dr. Gottlieb." The blond replies quickly as he rubs his palms against his jeans. It was obvious he was nervous, maybe even scared. The armoire door closes as Uxue walks over to the door locking it before closing the curtains, "Okay, gave you some more privacy. You can start whenever you like." Uxue's voice eased Harun slightly as he watches her sit down in the chair beside him.

Uxue's left hand held the blond man's head against her right shoulder as her right hand held his hip, her back was against the desk as they sat on the floor. Heavy, loud sobs violently shook Harun's body. "I'm not mad at you, no one is mad at you." Her voice soft and low as she spoke, "You were just following orders, you were trying so damn hard to do your best and you did your best." But the man shook his head the best he could, his hands gripping her upper arm as he cries out. "I should have said no! I should have- I- I-" His voice cut off as breathing started to become difficult. "Harun. Harun! Look at me- Look at me, kid. You are not in the fault. This is NOT your fault and it will never be. You were given an order, an order you thought at the time was correct. You couldn't predict that something bad would have happened." Uxue's voice harden as she held Harun's face in her hands, the very face that looked utterly destroyed and lost of any hope. "You did good. You DID good." The doctor whispers as the small man lends against her, the sobs weaker now but just as heart breaking.

"Why would I give that order, Uxue? Tell me!" Sonja screams as the wrench bounces off the concrete floor before landing somewhere out of sight, "You are known for giving reckless orders!" Uxue's voice was on the brink of yelling but she wanted to refrain from that, she wanted to be levelheaded in this moment. "Oh, I am! If that is the case then why are you asking?" The engineer huffs as she looks over to the door of her shop seeing Enyo enter, one of her worker's must have notified the head leader. "Because I want the whole story and you been avoiding the most important part, the five minutes before I arrived in the train yard!" Uxue yells, finally she was tired of this stupid game of tip toe. "Uxue." Enyo's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension in the workshop, "Let's go." The leader demands. Uxue closes her eyes as she grits her teeth, regardless she turns around and heads out the front door of Sonja's workshop.

"You can't do that, Uxue, you can't force people to talk. You are a doctor, you know this so why did you do it?" Enyo's voice is soft as she rubs Uxue's back as they sit at the dining table, Uxue holds her head in her hands as a heavy sigh leaves her. "Harun came to me today wanting to talk about that day, he says Sonja gave him an order." The doctor starts as she looks over to Enyo, "An order to start cutting, Harun said Sonja covered Bax's mouth when- when he started to beg him to wait." Uxue's voice wobbled as she looks down at the table. "If Sonja ordered that, if she covered his mouth..." Uxue's voice trails off, Enyo pulls Uxue to her. Enyo held her close, "Sonja wouldn't do that, Sonja was in love with Bax." She whispers in hope to ease Uxue's mind.

Enyo pulls herself quietly out of bed, she makes sure Uxue is still covered before leaving the room and heading down the hallway to the kitchen for a midnight snack and something to drink. The front door opening catches her attention, looking over her shoulder as she takes an apple from the fruit bowl. "Ah, Sonja. It's late, is everything okay?" Enyo asks as she goes to retrieve a knife and a plate to cut up her snack of the night, "Yeah, was just trying to get ahead of my tasks for this week." Sonja softly answers as she takes off her shoes and puts her coat on one of the hooks by the door. "Is Uxue home?" The engineer asks as she lends against the island, Enyo shrugs as she glances over at Sonja. "She might be, she also might be at work." Enyo answers as she gives the knife a quick rinse before putting it back into the knife block, "Well, she isn't at work, I checked before I got here. I'm gonna go see if she is in her room." Sonja's voice drifts quieter as she heads down the hallway to Uxue's room.

"I gave him the order and gagged Bax but I didn't gag him because he was begging, I gagged him because he was screaming." Sonja states as her fingers dug into her jeans, her mouth felt dry as she watches the information sunk into her friends' minds. "Why didn't you wait for me?" Uxue asks while lending forward, Enyo grabs her upper arm incase Uxue decides to get up. "I... I thought you were close enough, I thought you were maybe just a few minutes away and we could handle it till you arrived." Sonja answers with hesitance, that same hesitance gave Eirik a feeling in his gut that she was lying to them. "If you thought that Uxue was a few minutes away, why didn't you just wait?" Eirik asks as his eyes narrow, "I guess I wasn't thinking properly at the time." The engineer quickly replies as she looks around at everyone. "Sonja, are you hiding anything from us?" Sven asks with a harsh tone, nothing seemed to add up. Why wouldn't she wait for Uxue? Why did she gag Bax? Why was she so damn nervous? "No. That's the full story, that's it. I gave a stupid order, did something stupid, and now I wish I could take that back." Sonja snaps, she pushes herself out of the chair before storming out of the house.

The silence that filled the air was a mix of emotions before Eirik finally broke it, "I have a feeling that it was intentionally." Eirik whispers as he looks over his shoulder at the front door. "Why do you think that?" Zhi asks as he cards his fingers through Nick's hair, Nick looks up from Zhi's lap to watch Eirik. "Bax was..." Eirik starts before sighing heavily, "Bax and Sonja were in a relationship, we all know this but since Deadfall, Bax had confess to feeling like he was missing something." Eirik explains as he tries to find the correct words as he takes a seat beside Sterre. "Bax told me roughly five months before the expedition that he felt more... Bax felt more like Monat." Eirik says making everyone confused, "What's a Monat?" Sterre asks carefully as she lends forward a bit to get a better view of Eirik's face that seemed quite focused. A weak chuckle leaves Eirik as he shakes his head, "Monat isn't a what, Monat is a who and Monat was Bax. Bax was a she, not a he anymore. She felt out of place in her body, she did her best to ignore it because there wasn't anything anyone could do to help her but in private until she was comfortable telling everyone, I called her Monat." Eirik explains with a soft smile on his lips.

"What does this have to do with what happened? Sorry, not trying to be insensitive but I'm confused what does that have to do with what happened." The quick question felt Sven as he lends against the loveseat Enyo and Uxue were on, "Monat wanted to tell Sonja this since Sonja was important to her, so after dinner that was a week before the expedition; we told her but- she didn't take it well at all. She avoided Monat for the entire week and before they left, her giddy self seemed... simply, it seemed forced like she didn't want to be near Monat more than she has too." He confesses as he closes his eyes. Sterre touches Eirik's hand before Eirik grips it for comfort, "Are you implying that this was murder?" Nick's voice filled with disbelief as he sits up. "Yes." Eirik answers as he wipes his tears away, "I believe so because the very same day, Monat told me she felt scared to be with Sonja. I hate to think that Sonja would do this but this isn't the first time she reacted poorly to someone confessing how they feel to her." He states as he tighten his hold on Sterre's hand.

Enyo rubs her head trying her best to understand all of the information being thrown at her, "Who else?" She asks as she lends against Uxue's shoulder. "In the Vault, my wife was Sonja's best friend then they suddenly fell apart. The week they fell apart was the week my wife told Sonja that she wished to be called Nikon in private as well to be addressed as a he." Eirik explains as he lends back into the couch, "My lover cried for months before finding comfort in Monat, I ain't gonna lie; I thought they were screwing behind my back but now that I know what I know. I am happy that my late husband and my late girlfriend found peace in that vault." A sad happiness shown in Eirik's eyes as he finally told them the secrets he has been carrying. "WAIT! You and BAX- OUCH!" Nick was cut off when Sven slapped him on the back of his head, "Monat. It's Monat now Nick." Sven corrects with a small smile. "Sorry! You and Monat were together?!" Nick apologies before quickly following it up with a question. "Yeah and I do NOT regret it." The welder replies as everyone started to talk amongst each other and for a moment they forgot about Sonja but it didn't last long when they hear the front door slam open then shut. Uxue and Enyo gone from the living room.

To say settlement 22 was in shock, was the understatement of the year. No one understood why Sonja was being exiled from the settlement but they were cooking up theories as the citizens part away from each other as Uxue was through with a stuffed backpack, the doctor throws it down at Sonja's feet before standing behind Enyo. "Sonja, based on the evidence I have received it has become clear that you have murdered Baxtiyor." Enyo's voice booms as Sonja stares in shock, "No! No, no, no, no!" Sonja couldn't believe what she was hearing. This couldn't be right, this can't be right. It had to be a nightmare because there was no way the people she grew up with were throwing her out into the dangers of the land. "And from this day on, there will be changes. A hour ago, it has been made clear that people do not feel like the gender they were born with. Baxtiyor was one of those many people, he wished to be called Monat. Her headstone will be changed and from this day onwards, anyone with respect will address her properly." Enyo announces as she looks around at the settlers, "If you feel like you cannot respect Monat's wishes then you can go with Sonja and if you don't, if I caught you or anyone tells us that you have been disrespecting Monat and anyone like Monat; I will deal with you personally." The settlers look amongst each other, no one dares make a move in Sonja's direction.

It didn't happen overnight but things changed, not in a bad way but a good way. Yes, there was backlash from the radio and the paper but settlement 22 stood strong. The Unit leaders refused to back down and they would be damned if they did in the memory of their friend whose life ended too soon because someone else didn't agree with their change. It would take several months before Enyo discovers a book explaining that is was gender dysphoria and the people identify as transgender, Enyo made sure the unit read it or at least had a decent idea about it. It would be almost a year when medic scavengers found medical books for transgender people, unfortunately some of the surgeries would be impossible but didn't mean Uxue wouldn't try everyday to come up with a way to do them or create a different surgery to get it done. Another downside would be, no matter what Sterre tried or change in the medicine; it just wouldn't work. She felt like she failed after a year of trying, people still were grateful she tried but she felt like she failed Monat.

A sad smile rests on Eirik's lips as he stood in front of Monat's grave, "You did it, you changed our settlement to be safer. Our friends were so accepting of you and you were right about Nick, he slips every now and again but he tries so damn hard." his voice carries on the wind as he kneels down. "I hate to say I told you so but we should have totally told Enyo, she held so much love in her eyes when she realized why you looked in those magazines. She wishes so badly she knew the real you, hell, the whole group does. They beat themselves up sometimes, saying they should have seen it but you were kept secrets so well." Eirik explains as he sits down, he reaches forward grabbing a pale yellow flower from the vase. "I miss you, Monat. Can you tell, Nikon, I miss him too?" He asks quietly as he looks up at the night sky, a shaky breath leaves him as he places the flower back before getting up. "I love you both so god damn much." He states as he quietly leaves the cemetery.

-End of Chapter 4: Monat -

#We Are Survivors #Chapter 4 Monat

[mochacoffee]

I created a 3D model and floor plan of Aziraphale’s bookshop in Good Omens!

I really wanted one for reference and it seemed like many others did too, so I put together my best approximation of where everything is. Beneath the color version, you’ll see I’ve included two simplified, labeled versions of the plan. The verbal labels are so you know what the object is. The numerical labels are there to make it easy to find more information about the object. I’ve put a numbered index below the cut that features the relevant reference images I used for each object and some more information about why I put it where I did/why it’s relevant/etc. I want to be very clear that I did not add anything to this from my own imagination; every single item and feature represents something I actually saw in the shop.

If you have any questions or want more information about this, PLEASE do not hesitate to ask! I put so much time into figuring it out and I would be more than happy to be a resource for anyone who needs it. Also, if you notice any errors, let me know and I’ll update the post. I hope this is helpful!

Update: Here’s a link to an interactive view of the shop! It takes a moment to load. You can click the “3D” tab in the top right to view it in first person and walk around inside. Double click a spot on the floor to move there and pan around by clicking and dragging. The oval symbol next to the person walking gives you a birds-eye view.

Update 2: Here’s a higher quality rendering of the first person perspective! Update 3: I made an alternate first person render here complete with a ceiling, light fixtures, and ambient lighting from outside. This one is optimized for making it seem more like you’re actually there, whereas the previous one is for maximum visibility. This render also has some minor accuracy improvements, which are detailed under the cut in the relevant sections. (The first interactive link with the birds-eye view updates automatically.) Update 4: In case you’re interested in Aziraphale’s books specifically, I’ve made a catalogue of those here.

1. Unknown closet

Images

There is a door behind Gabriel when he talks to Aziraphale in the backroom. So where does it lead? Well. The wall we can see behind Aziraphale when he encounters Shadwell in the shop (see #17: boxes/storage) doesn’t have a door in it. It’s also facing the wrong direction and it’s in the middle of the southwest wall ⁠— we know this because Aziraphale can see Shadwell in the entrance from there. So the wall behind him at that moment is definitely not the wall of the backroom. We’re left with this door and unaccounted-for corner. The only thing that makes sense to me then is that there’s a closet there between the two spaces. My personal theory is that this closet is “the back” that Aziraphale refers to keeping the Châteauneuf-du-Pape in since I didn’t see any other obvious alcohol storage space in the shop. Update: @n0nb1narydemon has suggested this could be a bathroom for guests or because culturally it’s a room you can use to extricate yourself from situations, which is another possibility! They also asked where I think the doors behind object #20 lead, and I thought it would be good to add here that they might lead to the shop next door or to this unknown room. It’s possible the room actually extends further into the next shop and encompasses the part of the wall where the doors are, but I didn’t have concrete evidence to support that idea so I didn’t include it in the floor plan. Update: I was wrong about the Châteauneuf-du-Pape! In the DVD bookshop tour we learn that the cabinet in the top left corner of the backroom is where Aziraphale keeps his alcohol, including that particular wine. I added a reference photo of Neil pointing it out. Thanks to @fuckyeahgoodomens​ for bringing the existence of this tour to my attention — ya girl got the special edition blu-ray even though I don’t have a blu-ray player yet so I hadn’t actually seen it. Also, there is a chair right next to this cabinet against the wall which I missed in my initial rendering of the shop but have since added.

2. Part of shop next door (top right)

Images

This was very tricky to figure out because you can see from the exterior of the shop that there is no wall past the back door, but from the interior there is clearly more space there. BUT in a behind the scenes photo of David during the fire scene, you can see on this back wall that there’s actually a nook with two large entryways, similar to the one that makes up the backroom. From the exterior you can see that the area next to the back door is taken up by the window of the next shop, so I concluded that this little square of space was not part of the bookshop’s interior, but the nook did extend further back than where the shop appears to end from the outside. I had to make one bookshelf more nubby than the others to make this work, but after a LOT of trial and error I decided one nubby bookshelf was the only thing that could explain the apparent architecture of the space. Any floor design that accounted for a bookshelf of the same length as the others just did not make sense on a fundamental level.

3. Part of shop next door (bottom left)

Images

From the exterior of the shop you can see that this window belongs to the adjacent store, as the wall is a different color. Within the bookshop you can also see when Gabriel and Sandalphon enter the backroom, there’s no window behind them; there’s a sink. So it’s definitely not Aziraphale’s window. The wall of the backroom is also further into the shop’s interior than the wall Aziraphale’s desk sits against, so there’s a corner of space inside that’s unaccounted for. At first I assumed it was plumbing from the sink that had been sealed off or something, but when I realized that’s where the window was on the outside, I figured the space is probably part of the next shop over.

4. Aziraphale’s desk

Images

This is where Aziraphale sits in the shop like 90% of the time. It’s on the Eastern side of the shop because Aziraphale was the guardian of the Eastern gate in Eden and because production designer Michael Ralph is a goddamn genius (source). Shout out to @posted-omens for this fascinating post analyzing the chariot sculpture on his desk. Update: Fun fact, the ladder behind his desk is actually called a library chair, supposedly designed by Benjamin Franklin. It functions as a ladder but you can also fold it into a chair! Neil mentions this in the DVD extra bookshop tour. I added screen caps of it to the reference photos above since I don’t have a specific section for the ladders!

5. Phone Aziraphale calls Crowley from

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I will be honest with you: I think there’s something a little fucked up about this corner. It is my nemesis. I tried so many things to make it work and I just could not get it exactly right, but what you see in the floor plan is my best guess as to what’s going on. The conundrum is that the spot where Aziraphale stands when he’s on the phone with Crowley is definitely closer to the fence around the staircase than it is in my layout. But the table he’s in front of is also clearly against the outside wall of the backroom, and the stairs being where I’ve put them here is the only thing that made sense based on the reference photos. So there’s some weird spacing issue where there’s a little too much room between the fence around the stairs and this phone. If I were to move the walls to close that gap then there would be way too much space in the backroom and way too little space on the southwest side of the shop, so I think the walls are correct as they are. So  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. What I can say for certain is that the phone is there and it’s on a table next to a lamp, and the table is definitely against the wall of the backroom and behind the staircase. The distance between these things doesn’t hold up perfectly, but their arrangement does. On another note, this is one of two phones in the shop. The other is on the table next to the cash register (see #9) which Aziraphale picks up when Crowley calls to say they need to talk about Armageddon. I believe this is the same one he uses to call Adam’s house in episode two, only he moves it from the table by the register to the top of a pile of books (which I’m pretty sure were stacked on the circular table between his desk and the sofa). Update: OKAY SO it turns out in the behind-the-scenes bookshop tour on the DVD we get two more teeny tiny glimpses of this corner! I added them to the reference photo album above. It appears I was right about the lamp, phone, and bookshelf being where they are, except that the bookshelf and table are touching. There’s also a ladder propped against the shelf. I’d say it’s possible there are actually two bookshelves here; based on the parallax in the DVD tour, the one next to the phone didn’t appear to be against the wall, but we know there is a bookshelf against that wall because we see it in the show. (P.S. There’s also another chair against that wall which I didn’t see because Aziraphale was standing in front of it, so I added that too.) This leads me to believe there’s one against the wall and another one further from it next to the table. But that’s just my speculation, so I won’t change the actual floor plan unless I find more evidence.

6. Where they’re drinking when Crowley realizes Adam has named the hellhound

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When Aziraphale sits down at this table, the background is of the same space he refers to as the “backroom” when Gabriel and Sandalphon show up. He’s across the table from Crowley, behind whom you can see a bookshelf, the staircase, and the coat rack. The table is half in the backroom half out, since the room has two large entryways in its wall. Update: I realized the wall behind this table actually dips back further! It is a weirdly-shaped wall! But in the DVD special tour of the bookshop Neil walks past it and there’s clearly an area that recesses even further, so I’ve modified that in the interactive floor plan :)

7. Bench of books that start the fire

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When Shadwell leaves the book shop and slams the door, one of the candles knocks over and rolls into a pile of books and other papers (including the Sound of Music lmao). You can see it’s the same bench the customer is standing in front of when he gives Gabriel a weird look after he yells about pornography. (I love this customer so much because they gave me a super HD shot of this particular area.) The poles of the fence around the bench, the staircase behind it, and the smaller shelves beside it holding Terry Pratchett’s books make it clear that the bench is in that spot in the shop and that it’s the place the fire starts.

8. Coat rack with Terry’s hat on it

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Aziraphale hangs his coat here right before Crowley calls him to say they need to talk about Armageddon. Out of focus in the frame you can see the lion sculpture that sits on the fence surrounding the stairs (see #11) and a bookshelf. The camera pans past the shelf and we see him walk past his desk to pick up the phone by the cash register, which puts that shelf right next to his sitting area. We can also see the coat rack in the background when Crowley realizes Adam has named the hellhound. The coat rack has Terry Pratchett’s hat and scarf on it in his honor (source).

9. Antique cash register

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You can see this register in the background when Crowley is on the couch and when Aziraphale invites Gabriel and Sandalphon into the backroom. I know it’s an antique cash register because it’s photographed and referenced directly on page 79 of the Good Omens TV Companion. It’s a typewriter in my floor plan because the website I used (floorplanner.com), who knows why, did not have a 3D model of a cash register from the early 1900s.

10. Back door

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Thank you so much to @fuckyeahgoodomens for this post where they figured all this out!! Wonderful work! You can see this door from the exterior of the shop and its existence is referenced in the Good Omens script book on page 94. It’s also in the background of a behind the scenes shot of Aziraphale pulling away the carpet so he can contact heaven. Behind him in that shot you can see the bust (which moves around a lot - see #19) and a grandfather clock, and in the show from one of the aerial shots you can see that the carpet is pulled west, further confirming the door’s location.

11. Fence around the stairs

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I have concluded that this is a fence to keep customers from going up to the second floor. It looks to be made of golden pillars with wooden shelving atop them. The fence crosses beneath the staircase on one side and the other side ends about where the stair’s railing does. You can see this fence behind Crowley when he realizes Adam has named the hellhound, behind Aziraphale when he calls Crowley to tell him he knows where the antichrist is, and next to the customer who gives Gabriel a look after he yells “PORNOGRAPHY!” It’s also visible in one of the aerial shots of the shop. Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour I noticed the lion sculpture on this fence is not just a lion, but a lion with a woman holding its mane. I think it might also be a lamp? In one of the reference photos, the one that looks down from the second floor, it appears there’s a light in the woman’s other hand. I’d be interested to see if we can track down what this particular sculpture is and what it might mean. Update: @cantdewwrite has suggested here that the light/sculpture could be a replica of one of the bronze statues in the Victoria Memorial, which does look quite similar. I’m fairly certain Aziraphale’s sculpture is of a woman, which would make it the figure in the memorial representing peace.

12. Open book of illustrated story of Adam and Eve

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Shout out to @amuseoffyre for this post where she figured out what this was! Update: I’ve determined that this book is The Gospel in the Old Testament: A series of pictures by Harold Copping. The painting is, naturally, by Harold Copping. It’s called “Adam and Eve after the fall.” Unfortunately this book is out of print and I haven’t been able to track down an ebook or scan of it, so I can’t confirm the text just yet. But based on its premise, I think it’s safe to assume that it’s telling the story of Adam and Eve directly. Aziraphale has a second copy of this book visible on the shelf next to the sofa.

13. Antique computer

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This is the computer Aziraphale does his extremely scrupulous taxes with, as confirmed in this ask that @neil-gaiman answered from @prismatic-bell! It’s an Amstrad, according to the bookshop tour in the DVD extras.

14. Spiral staircase

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These stairs are in many shots of the shop so it was pretty obvious where they were.

15. Sink, teapots, etc.

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You can see this wall right before Gabriel walks into the backroom and behind Aziraphale when he’s drinking with Crowley at the end of episode one. It appears he has two hand towels, a ceramic angel soap dish (aw), some teapots, and a decorated box above it, among other things. On the floor beside the sink is what I believe to be a broom handle, though it could be a mop? Next to that is a bronze statue of an angel atop a small table piled with books. On the other side of the sink is an open book on a stand ⁠— it has a fabric bookmark in it with a crucifix at the end, so I’m assuming it’s a bible. Light reading while you make your tea I guess. Update: Thank you so much to @brightwanderer for pointing out in this post that he has four extra angel wing mugs above the sink as well! I couldn’t figure out what they were! Update: Neil said in this ask that you can see an oven by the sink when Gabriel and Sandalphon walk in. Which you can! It’s real small and there’s a little pot on top of it. I’ve added a screencap of it to the images album for this area. Update: I’m donating my heart and soul to @ack-emma for suggesting in the replies to this ask that the central object above the sink is a samovar!! I had never heard of this so I had absolutely no idea what it was, but I think they hit the nail on the head. Y’all Aziraphale really likes tea.

16. Sculpture

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Thank you @ineffable-endearments, @behold-my-squeees, @srebrnafh, @aethelflaedladyofmercia for contributing to this post about the statue and its potential symbolism! Update: @doctorscienceknowsfandom has added some analysis to the post above suggesting that this is a sculpture of Paris, the figure from Greek mythology. I’m inclined to agree! Update: BINGO! @tifaria​ has found Aziraphale’s exact statue (confirmed Paris!) in this post. Brilliant work!! This community continues to blow me away. Further discussion about the sculpture’s meaning in the context of the show here — be sure to check the notes for further commentary.

17. Boxes/storage

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These boxes and piles of books can be seen behind Aziraphale when he encounters Shadwell in the shop and behind Crowley while he’s rambling drunkenly about why they should stop Armageddon in episode one. They’re in a nook that goes further back than where the shop appears to end from its exterior (see #2 for more info on that!). 

18. Stacks of books

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You can see this stack in one of the aerial shots of Shadwell in the shop. I didn’t include most stacks of books in the floor plan because they’re literally everywhere and I had to manually set how high each book would be from the floor, so putting them in piles got tedious very quickly. But I did include a few notable ones, and this is one of those imo because there’s not much else in that area as far as I can tell.

19. Bust

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This little guy moves around quite a bit, unlike most things in the shop. In some photos/scenes it’s where I put it on the floor plan, but in others it’s closer to the northwestern wall and in this 360 video of the shop it’s right between two of the columns. I chose to put it where I did because it’s there in the scene where Crowley is drunkenly rambling about Armageddon, whereas the other locations I’ve seen it in were from behind the scenes shots and stuff. I’m not sure who the bust is of! It appears to have a little ribbon with a medal around its next though. Update: More speculation about the bust here, courtesy of @aethelflaedladyofmercia! Update: @fuckyeahgoodomens has confirmed in this post that the thing around the bust’s neck is the medal given to Aziraphale by Gabriel in this deleted scene!

20. Divider I think?

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Please for the love of god if you know what this thing is, tell me. My best guess is it’s a room divider because what else looks like that?? But I don’t know why you would put a room divider there. And it still doesn’t look exactly like a divider either. But the decorative element at the top and apparent gap between the metal frame and the red bit leads me to believe it’s not furniture or a box. This mystery object is my second nemesis after the weird corner (#5). Update: @brightwanderer has suggested that it might be an embroidered/tapestry draft screen, which I think makes more sense! Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour I found a very brief image of this item over Neil’s shoulder which I added to the reference photos above. I think by some miracle I was right and it is a divider. It could be a draft screen but at the very least it is shaped like a divider with at least three sections. Wahoo!

21. Record player

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This is the phonograph that’s playing Franz Schubert’s String Quintet in C major (thank you again to @fuckyeahgoodomens for that info) when we first see Aziraphale in the shop. It also plays Queen’s You’re My Best Friend when Crowley runs into the fire.

22. Terry Pratchett’s books

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Another one of the many little Terry easter eggs in the show is this set of his books! @devoursjohnlock made a post highlighting some other specific books you can find in the shop.

23. Chess set

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I saw a post once pointing out this chess set and the implication that Aziraphale and Crowley must play together sometimes, which I thought was a really nice detail to put into the set. But I can’t find the post to credit it! I will update this with a link if I do. Update: Pretty sure this is the post I saw. Thank you to @losyanya for mentioning it :)

24. Circular entryway

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This is one of many circle motifs that production designer Michael Ralph incorporated into the shop. It’s gorgeous. I think there’s actually more room between the archway and the door than I’ve included in this floor plan; Shadwell takes a few steps through it when he runs out of the shop. But I think the fix is just the door being further out from the entryway rather than the entryway being further in. I didn’t want to fuck with the walls to improve this particular area because when I realized the spacing was wrong, I was almost done and would’ve had to manually move each object in the shop over a few inches over. Made more sense to leave the caveat in a footnote. Update: In the DVD extra bookshop tour you get a brief glimpse of something on the inside wall of the entryway. I think it’s a wall sconce or something along those lines. There’s one on either side. I added them to the reference album above! I also figured out how to extend the walls to accommodate some more space there without having to move everything else, so I did that. Update: Here’s a link to some meta discussion about the cupid sculpture in front of this entryway!

25. Sofa Crowley sits on when he suggests they could be godfathers

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You can see that the sofa is next to Aziraphale’s desk and the cash register, and also that there’s a bookshelf behind it. From the entrance to the shop you can see two bookshelves on either side of the central circle, so it was pretty clear that the couch was on the other side of one of those shelves.

26. Wall crucifix

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I find it very interesting that Aziraphale has this considering Jesus isn’t a big part of angelic lore or heaven’s general priorities in the show. It would make more sense to me that he has it because it’s another memento of his time with Crowley, sort of like the illustrated story of Adam and Eve by his desk (#12). Also, fun fact, the opposite side of this wall segment is where he put up all his maps and notes about the whereabouts of the Antichrist in episode three.

#good omens #aziraphale's bookshop #good omens reference #floor plan #ref #i hope people see this i posted it at 2am because i was too excited about it to wait until daylight hours #OKAY SO PEOPLE SAW IT THANKS GUYS #check out the tag: #bookshop questions #for follow-up Qs!

[thotsforvillainrights]

~Pivitol~

Summary: Things aren’t going so good...

Chapter: 17

Warnings: None

“Your phone is seriously bugging out. It buzzed so much you would think there was a fly stuck between the case. Is it your boyfriend?” Yuko reached over curiously and you smacked her hand away before grabbing your phone and hiding it in your pocket. “Um yes, and I’m not letting you step into the conversation this time either.” You huffed while continuing to work at your desk. Yuko sighed and rolled her eyes as she let her fingers fall back into line of the keyboard, meticulously tapping away at her work. “Chill, I wasn’t gonna pick it up and text him for you again. But anyway, I’m your friend right? Aren’t you gonna let me know what’s up? You seem off today.” 

You zoned out and debated whether or not to spill your guts to her upon this last hour before clocking out. It had been a week since you last saw Kai due to busying work schedule, and things were feeling a bit different lately. He was always texting or calling, trying to come over and hang out. It would’ve been fine but you needed to keep him away at the sake of focusing on your work and the important report due. Some big people were coming to the branch soon and everyone had to be on their toes or else there would be termination. Personally you needed this job to pay rent...or at least you needed it to feel accomplished for a bit. But that was just leading you into the thought of the issue at hand:

Kai was fully intent into getting you to move in with him.

“Yuko is it...I mean can you maybe...” You looked at the clock and sighed in relief. 5 minutes remaining. “Yuko can you take a 15? I’m about to clock out for today and I could use your company in the breakroom real quick.” That was code word for ‘please take a minute and I’ll explain it to you’. She nodded eagerly. Within the next 10 minutes you two were at the table munching on grapes and little fruit slices. “So the thing lately is that I’ve been feeling different with Kai. I mean, I love him and all but he’s been up my ass a little bit lately. My main concern isn’t really that though. I mean I know he’s been more of a loner until I came around so of course he’s gonna want to hang out often. My biggest concern is that he wants me to drop everything and move in with him. He wants to pay all my bills etc. yknow? He even told me that if I didn’t want to quit this job when I moved in with him that he’d literally buy me a car so I could travel to work and back.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS!?” She smacked the table with excitement. You shushed her and looked around to make sure no one was coming in on the conversation. “Sorry but what the hell??? Y/N that’s like a dream come true right?! You don’t have to work, but even if you did then he would get you a new car AND you can live with him??? He’s going to spoil you!” While her eyes sparkled with excitement and the will to live vicariously through you, your eyes were dulled with a bit of annoyance and exasperation. “It’s not a dream world like you would think. Some of us would like to have time to function as an adult with ourselves without leaning on someone else for a while. I literally haven’t even been working here that long. And having someone buy me an entire car?! I could never think to return that kind of generosity. I couldn't afford to even if I tried and worked my whole life. I just wish he would give a little time to think about this mess and I wish he’d consider my feelings yknow? If I had some time maybe it wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but lately I’ve been feeling like I’m backed into a corner. I mean, look at these text messages from earlier!” You reached into your pocket and pulled your phone out, sliding it on the table for Yuko to get.

“Woooowwww...”

“Yeah, a bit much right?”

“No no not that! I mean wow, a Mercedes? Figure you can take one for the team and give it to me instead?” You reached to take your phone and bonk her on the head a bit. “Cut it out, this isn’t time to joke!” You groaned and gripped the sides of your head. Yuko sighed and rubbed the top of her head before moving her chair to sit next to you and hug you. “Do you want my honest opinion even if it hurts? Or do you want me to sugar coat it?” She asked you as she nestled into you tightly. You sighed and hugged here back, uttering your answer for the honest opinion. “I don’t think you’re worried about taking things to fast with him are you? I think you’re content and comfortable with him. I also think you really love him and care for him. I really don’t think the timing of your relationship matters all that much because speed is different for a lot of people in this world and we don't all go by one set time limit for everything. I think that you’re just too prideful sometimes. Maybe you come from an environment where you had to depend on someone for so long that now you cling to the thought of singularity and independence. I think that if you were ever in trouble that you wouldn’t think to ask for help at all because you’d want to get out of things yourself even if you drag yourself through the mud to do it. I think even when provided with a means to keep working here that you still don’t move in with him because you might be worried about leaning on him and the fear of him possibly holding his acts of kindness over your head to manipulate you later on scares you. Because maybe this happened before in your life with someone that wasn’t so kind? But at the end of the day Y/N you need to trust him and fall back on him a little bit. You’re not losing your independence or your sense of self just by moving into a house with your boyfriend yknow? And when someone offers you an entire car just to get you by their side everyday? That means he really must love you. He wants this moving in thing so bad that he’s willing to get you whatever you need to do it. Maybe just think a little bit harder on it and get him an answer okay?” Yuko pulled out of the hug and smiled gently at you before peeking down at her watch. “Oh shit! I’m like 12 minutes over for my break, gotta jet! Text me later and let me know if things get any better!” Just like a jet of lightning she was out of the breakroom and back at her desk, furiously typing away and trying to catch up to herself. You laughed lightly and put your phone away as you headed out of the office and back home.

When you got off the elevator to your floor, you gasped at Chisaki standing right by your front door. “Oh Angel! You’re a bit late today. I took the liberty of bringing in your mail from your box downstairs by the way. Oh here, let me get this bag for you. Oh yeah did you think about the thing we talked about the other day? Can you get back to me with an answer now? I was looking into some good moving services the other day when I figure why not just have Rappa and Katsukame come lug the heavier stuff. We can move your bed to  guest room or we can sell it if you want to. Oh and the extra Tv we can move to the-”

“Oh my God Kai please STOP. I’m literally begging you to stop this! You’re literally all down my throat with this shit. You’ve made plan after plan and I never gave you a yes for any of this just yet! I asked you for time and you’ve given me barely ANY to get my head in the right space for all of this! Why are you pushing me so damn fast like this?! You’re making plans to sell my stuff now too???”

“Y/N...I just thought-”

“YOU CAN TAKE A MOMENT TO CONSIDER MY FEELINGS PLEASE!??? What if I say no huh? What if I just never move in with you then what??? Will I be stuck for the rest of this relationship listening to you continue to make plans for me and beg me over and over and over until I say yes to whatever the hell it is that you want me to say yes to?”

“Y/N...”

“Kai please, I’m begging you to just give me some space.”

“...Understood...” He gently placed your mail on the table and headed out the door swiftly. You collapsed on the couch and sighed loudly, rubbing your temples and trying to navigate the throbbing of the oncoming headache. Worst of all, the overwhelming feeling of guilt was slowing trickling down and filling you up until you felt absolutely awful for everything you just dumped on him. You sighed and got up to trudge off to the shower where you could think and wash your worries away. Meanwhile, Kai wasn’t doing very good himself. After leaving your apartment in a hurry he was left in a state of confusion, sadness, and numbness wondering where exactly he went wrong. “Back so soon my boy? That was a quick trip! Is my beloved in-law out there with you? I assume you must’ve picked her/him/them up to come here instead yes?” Kai simply stared at Pops with annoyance before huffing and heading downstairs to his office. “Without a single word eh?” Pops sighed to himself and slowly stood up. “I suppose I had better go speak to him then.” The old man made his way belowground and went straight to Kai’s most likely location: his office. He knocked twice and listened at the door. 

“Whoever it is I suggest you leave before cleanup crew has to mop your insolent body from the concrete.” Pops held in his chuckle and shook his head as he entered the office. “Still haven’t changed all these years eh? You know you were quite like this as a child too. When you used to get upset you would have a very mean way about you, but you never scared me kid. You don’t scare me now either. So now tell me what’s got you so upset today? Lovers spat perhaps?” Kai immediately snapped his head up and stared at Pops. “How the hell did you know that.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday boy. I was married with a kid once. I know more about this stuff than you think. I’m going to go out on a limb and say you must’ve caused this. Judging by your prickly personality, what did you do.”

“Victim blaming when I’m your own son? You’re a very cold man you know.” Kai joked dryly and Pops smiled. “If you must know, I don’t know what the hell happened. I was just visiting Y/N since we hadn’t been with each other for a few days. I can’t begin to imagine what caused the argume-” Kai paused and thought about the words pouring from your lips. Aside from all the bitterness he felt from being chewed out for the first time he actually heard what you said and pieced it altogether. “I suppose I may be laying a bit much on Y/N right now. I just crave her/his/their presence more often and every hour not spent with my Angel is driving me insane. I’m damn near on the verge of wanting to kidnap but then I remember how that’s shunned on by society.” Pops laughed and shook his head. Yes the boy hadn’t changed much at all, even throughout the years. “I want Y/N to move in with me so much so that I’ve gone about finalizing things without permission. Which by the way reminds me, there’s going to be a new car in the driveway in another day or two. Don’t panic, I bought it for Y/N as a gift. I used the money from those drug dealings I was doing for that week. And BEFORE you lay into me about it, I shut it down and won’t be interacting with it any more in the future.”

“You say that and you had better run through it for real this time young man, or it’ll be you moving out of this house instead of Y/N moving in. Do you hear me?” Pops threatened with a scowl and Kai rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Now beside all that, I would be over the moon if Y/N were to move in with us! However, you have to be gentle and take your time with these things. You always tend to take things far past their limits and I can understand that Y/N must be feeling drowned in everything you’re bringing forward. Take a moment, give some time, and I guarantee everything will be just fine between the two of  you.” Pops stood up and placed a gentle hand on Kai’s head as he passed to leave out of the office. Once left alone, the young head stared at your contact in the phone debating on whether or not he would call you. He ultimately decided on giving it time to air out before getting in contact with you again. It was the hardest thing he would do, but he wanted to prove to himself he could take things slow. At least slow enough to let you calm down and make your choice. 

Still...the silence was killing him.

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kai chisaki x reader #kai chisaki #overhaul #bnha overhaul #Pivotal #pivitol #fanfiction #fanfic

[knightsimp]

Recovery (1/2)

Pairing: Percival Graves x Reader

Summery: You knew something was off. You knew that was not Percival.

Genre: Angst (the fluff will be in Part 2!)

Word Count: 2400+

Date Posted: February 1, 2021

Note: I haven’t written in a while! I finally have a new muse lmao.

Part Two: Link

MACUSA, also known as the Magical Congress of the United States of America, is the magical government in America. This is also where our dear protagonist works and spends a lot of her time. 

(Y/N) (L/N) is a MACUSA auror. She has worked there for years now. She started out as a simple intern when she graduated from Illvermony, and is now a seasoned auror. 

For the last couple months, (Y/N) has been out of the country in London, working with The Ministry of Magic on a joint case. She was only supposed to be gone for a couple weeks, but being an auror was not exactly a predictable job. When she came back to New York, she did not go home directly, not before seeing Percival.

She and Percival had known each other since she was a trainee and he was an intern. At first, she was ahead in rankings, but he soon climbed to the top and became Director of Magical Security and head of MACUSA's Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Regardless of her jealousy (though she may deny that she was ever jealous), they have always been good friends. They were made for each other. Inside jokes, casual and last-minute meet-ups; they were in sync from the beginning. 

(Y/N) giddily knocked on the door of Percival’s office before slowly opening it.

“Hey Percy!” Her voice had a tune to it. “Guess who’s back?” When she looked at him, he saw someone who was very tired. He was hunched over at his desk, a hand on his hairline. 

“(L/N).” He was monotone.

“Oh, wow. I feel missed! Stand up, you fool; let me give you a hug.” With a sigh, Percival stood and allowed for her to walk into his arms. She held him tight, her arms locking behind his back. 

Nothing was wrong at first, but (Y/N) realized how loosely he held her. Sure Percival is not a hugger, but when he was affectionate, the man was affectionate. That was not super concerning, but what did set off alarms in her head was when Percival took a big sniff of her hair. She was expecting him to ask if she even went home, seeing as she wheeled in her suitcase, or for him to ask her why she was gone so long, as she was not allowed to send any letters or anything and he probably found out from another official. 

But nothing.

He was asking nothing.

Maybe he was stressed? She did know about the whole Grindelwald situation and how much that has been weighing on Percival, considering his position in MACUSA. 

“Are you okay, Percy?” She asked as she pulled away. She chose her words carefully. “You seem tired.” She intentionally avoided calling him “off.”

“I’m okay.” He answered. However, (Y/N) found something odd. He had no tell. 

Not many people realized, but Percival Graves did indeed have a tell. He knew to hide this tell with work related stuff, but it seemed to come out in a casual environment. This tell was him smoothing out his slicked-back hair with his dominant hand.

She knew he was lying. And he had no tell.

This was not Percival Graves.

The realization caught (Y/N) off guard, but as an experienced auror, she knew how to keep a straight face. She knew not to let her smile turn fake. 

“Alright! If you ever need any help, you know where to find me.” She put some distance between them with the excuse of grabbing her suitcase. This was another thing that convinced her that this was not her friend; he did not offer to help or walk her out. Percival may be stoic and cold but he was a gentleman to a fault. 

When she exited and closed the door to his office, she could not help but let a shiver run down her spine. If this was not Percival, then who was he?

Her first stop was Seraphina Picquery’s office. Maybe she will know something? Hopefully, seeing as Seraphina works so closely with Percival, she would have noticed the differences in his behavior.  

(Y/N) was more professional when knocking on Seraphina’s door. 

“Enter!” She walked in once she had permission. Seraphina was sitting at her desk. Surprisingly, she was not in some sort of meeting at the moment. “Ms. (L/N)! I trust your return to the states was pleasant.”

“Yes, um, Madame President-”

“You haven’t gone home yet?” Seraphina Stood from her chair and came to the front of her desk. “Surely you would want to take a few days off.”

“Madame President, please listen to me.” Seraphina motioned for (Y/N) to speak what is on her mind. “Have you noticed anything strange with Mr. Graves while I was gone?”

“(L/N), if you are wondering if he missed you considering how long you’ve been gone, I am sure-” (Y/N) cut her off.

“That is not my concern, Madame President.” She stopped for a moment. “I just came from Percival’s office, ma’am. Something is not right. Something feels off; he feels off.” Seraphina cocked an eyebrow.

“How so?” (Y/N) thought about the evidence she had, suddenly feeling a little dumb.

“For one, I can tell you for sure he did not miss me. He did not ask any of the questions that one would expect, he did not hug me the way he usually does - he sniffed my hair very strangely - and he did not offer to walk me out.” Seraphina rolled her eyes. “Does that not seem odd to you?”

“I think you just may be a little upset that he did not give you the reaction to your return that you wanted and you are tired.”

“But-”

“Go home, (Y/N).” (Y/N) went to speak again, but stopped, realizing how futile her attempts would be. “Yes, Madame President.” Rolling her suitcase behind her, she left disappointed.

When (Y/N) returned home, she could not stay in the shower long enough for her to fully relax. She could not get Percival off of her mind. She could not rest, even after three months of working. Something told her another job was calling her name and the auror part of her was going to investigate. While in her bathrobe and wet hair, she pinned up a photo of her and Percival. They looked at each other and at the camera in the moving photo and it made (Y/N) smile. It also made her more determined to find out what was going on. 

“Alright.” She muttered to herself. Time to get to work.

Over the next month, (Y/N) had slowly added to her wall. She had been sneakily keeping tabs on Percival, seeing where he went, who he met with, where he ate; she tried her best. Of course, there were holes in the narrative she was putting together as she had to continue doing her job as auror. She needed to keep her job, but also needed to keep Percival from being suspicious, especially since he was technically her boss. One thing she often beat herself up for was being so friendly with him from the minute she walked into his office after her trip. She had to keep that facade up, which meant the occasional hug, calling him by his nickname, etc. Each time, she felt sick.

(Y/N) even went to each lunch with him every Monday. His reaction to coming to his office for lunch on Monday something she paid attention to. This imposter went along with it, as if lunch with (Y/N) every Monday was the norm, but it was not. Before she left for London, they had been having lunch on Wednesday for years; Monday was never a day that they met up for a meal. Of course, (Y/N) never expected Percival to come to her apartment on Fridays. Fridays, they would have dinner together. Each week, they would rotate on who’s apartment. When he never showed up for dinner the Friday following her return, she knew this was not Percival. And it was a relief when he did not turn up to her apartment. 

Of course, she had her doubts during her investigation. At points, she thought she was crazy. She tried to make up excuses as to Percival’s sudden change in personality and routine. That man was a man of discipline, however; he is not the person one would expect to break from their routine.

At one point the stress had become too much. (Y/N) ended up inviting her friend Queenie to her apartment during an empty Friday. Queenie, being the sweetheart she is, was sworn to secrecy, though she did not believe what (Y/N) was giving her. If her sister Tina found out, (Y/N) would be reported for insubordination. Still, Queenie tried her best to support her friend.

Things took a turn with Newt Scamander coming to New York. She had met Newt once before, seeing as she worked with his older brother Theseus while she was in the states. Chaos reached his peak with his beasts on the loose, the anti-magic sentiment, and the random civilian attacks which definitely had a magical origin. 

She was there when Newt and Tina trapped Percival, making him fall to his knees. (Y/N) almost cried seeing her friend in such a position, but she felt the blood drain from her face when his dark hair turned white and his eyes changed hue. She never suspected that he was Grindelwald. 

In the silence of everyone’s awe, (Y/N) pushed through the aurors. 

Limping on her injured leg, she approached him, ignoring the immense pain coming from her thigh. She kicked him hard in the jaw, making him fall on his back. Those around her gasped, surprised by her reaction. “I knew it,” she mumbled before shouting, “I knew it!” She put her foot on his chest, tears finally running down her face, her teeth gritting. “Where is he? Where is he!” The cocky smile Grindelwald gave her as an answer made her blood boil. 

“(Y/N).” Tina pulled her back as (Y/N) struggled in her grasp. “(Y/N), he’ll get what he deserves! Please-” (Y/N) broke free, only glaring daggers at Tina before walking towards the president. 

“(Y/N)-” Seraphina nervously tried to call her name. 

“Forgive me for being blunt, Madame President, but I told you. I told he was not Percival.” (Y/N)’s heels clacked on the concrete floor of the destroyed subway before she apparated away to her apartment. She could not even make it to the bed before she fell to her knees and began to sob. She tried to stop the hiccups and whimpers with her hand, but gave up very quickly. 

Where is he? Where is Percy? Where is Percival Graves? A dreadful thought came to her. What if he’s dead? This only made the sobs louder. She rested her head against the corridor wall. She did not even bother to turn on any lights or light any candles.

She stayed there even when the sun set. She was too tired, too drained, (and not to mention injured) to get up and change or eat. She found out what was wrong with Percival, which is what she wanted, but she almost wished she did not know.

She heard a whooshing behind her. Someone had appeared in her apartment. 

“(Y/N)?” Queenie’s soft voice was heard. “Sweetie?”

“Queenie, go make something for her to eat.” Tina was also here, it seemed. “I’ll get her cleaned up.” Tina stood in front of (Y/N), kneeling down. “Come on.”She struggled to stand her up. Not only was (Y/N) not willing to stand, but her leg was also injured. Once Tina was able to stand her up, she was ready to take on (Y/N) weight. As soon as they were stable, a pathetic, exhausted sob escaped (Y/N). 

“Come on, (Y/N). I’ll help you.” Tina almost flinched when (Y/N) looked up to meet her eyes. She looked so tired, so defeated, but there was enough determination to at least get to the bathroom.

In the kitchen, poor Queenie was feeling it all. Tina does her best to sympathize, but someone as empathetic as Queenie really did feel everything. Not only was she grieving Jacob, but she was now feeling (Y/N)’s immense grief of Percival. Queenie tried her best to stay somewhat positive while making (Y/N) a meal; sadness can be tasted in a meal.

Tina was able to get (Y/N) to shower and sat at the dining table. Her hair was still wet, but she definitely looked cleaner. Queenie did her part and convinced (Y/N) to eat. Eating did make (Y/N) feel a tad better; Queenie had always been an amazing cook. 

The air around them felt so still, so solemn, so exhausting. No one dared to say a word. 

“I...” (Y/N)’s voice broke the silence. “I think I want to go to sleep now.” 

“Alright.” Queenie’s voice was soft and gentle as if she was talking to a child, glancing at (Y/N)’s plate to make sure she had eaten enough. “Tina and I will clean up-”

“No, Queenie, I can’t let you do that. You’ve already done so much for me. You can go home.”

“We want to help, (Y/N).” Tina popped up. “You’ve been through a lot for the last couple of months.” (Y/N) did not have the energy to argue, but she gave a thankful smile. She delicately stood from the table and quietly went to her bedroom, her no-longer-heeled feet not making a sound on the wood floor. She did not have the energy to even dry her hair properly before falling onto her mattress. Once she was under the covers, she curled up into a ball and hugged the pillow which was usually beside the one she chose to lay her head on. No more sounds came out, but tears did soak the pillow she shoved her face into as she held on tighter. 

When she woke up the next morning, the mental exhaustion had taken over. Her lungs seemed airy and there was a grim atmosphere. Judging by the lack of direct sunlight coming from her bedroom window, it was the afternoon. When she sat up, her eyes went directly to the wall across from her where she had pinned up evidence.

Well, Percy is not going to find himself, now will he?

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